The Wall of Death
by Xenitha
Summary: Batman sees his role as a solemn one and is dismayed at the risks that Dick takes regularly as Robin. When the War starts, it could get Dick killed. Note-my alien war isn't the same one in Season 2.
1. Battlefield

Wall of Death, Chapter 1-The Battle

Let me ride on the wall of death one more time  
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time  
You can waste your time on the other rides  
But this is the nearest to being alive  
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death

Wall of Death, by Richard Thompson

PRESENT DAY

The field was dark, blasted black with char and cinders. Stumps of burned trees broke ground here and there, with barren spikes of bushes twisting in the rain. A hundred dark bodies huddled in the wasteland, some still gripping weapons in their hands, motionless in the mud that would bury them. A single figure moved from body to body, stopping to check one, rolling over another, finding no signs of life. The figure stood upright, tall in his long black cape and cowl, stretching exhausted muscles, then spotted another body and swiftly ran to it. A young man, lithe and athletic, lay in the mud. His hand stretched in front of him, clutching at the air as if calling for help. Spots of red blood spattered his back and his clumped in his dark hair. The caped figure rolled him over, gently brushing the mud from the young man's face and grateful for the rain that helped wash the dirt off. Not him. The Bat sighed with relief, then wearily looked over the field he  
had yet to cover if he were to find his eldest son.

He heard a whistling sound and felt the breeze as a large blue and red figure thumped to earth next to him. Without bothering to look, the Bat said, "I know you think this is pointless, Clark, but I'm not quitting until I find Dick."

Superman put a hand on Batman's shoulder. "I would expect no less from you, Bruce. But..I have some news."

Bruce Wayne, aka the Batman turned to his old friend. "Have they found him? Where?"

"He's been captured," Superman's voice sounded worn, even for him. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but J'onn says they're torturing him."

Batman straightened up. "He's alive, then. Where is he? I'll go get him."

"It's not that simple," Superman folded his arms over his chest. "He's behind enemy lines and even I can't go there. They've infused their barricades with kryptonite, apparently quite plentiful on their planet. And you know the state of their defenses. Hell, you planned our first strike!"

"Just because they beat the crap out of us on this run doesn't mean that a small team can't get him out. Or one man," Batman said evenly.

"Okay," Superman tried again. "How will you get him out again? You know he's probably injured and I doubt he's mobile."

Batman frowned heavily. "I'm going, Clark."

"Suppose you do go," Superman growled in frustration. "You know why they want him. He knows the codes to the computers in the batcave. He knows our encryptions; he should, he designed them! If the enemy gets you, they'll have the rest of the ball of wax,. Our tactics, weapons, plans. Bad enough that we've lost Nightwing. If we lose you too, the war is lost."

"We haven't lost him yet," Batman persisted. "He hasn't told them anything."

"They've had him for a day and a half. Bruce...He won't be the son you raised when you get him back," Superman said gently.

"He's my son and I'm going after him. And he knows it," Batman insisted. "Now get the Hell out of my way if you aren't going to help!"

TWO YEARS BEFORE

Batman and Robin crouched on the rooftops overlooking the alley in Gotham City. On patrol one rainy night, they had seen a man drag a woman behind some dumpsters. Batman had already pulled out his infrared binoculars. Lucius Fox had already begun to create schematics that would put infrared functionality into the lenses in their masks, but it was still on the drawing board. It would be good to have one less gadget to worry about carrying.

"Batman, I can take him. He's directly below me and all he has is a knife, right hand. His left is in shadow, but it's probably around the victim. I'll get the drop on him and he won't even feel it." Robin sounded confident, almost cocky. Cocky was bad. Over-confidence kills.

"You don't know what's in his left hand, Robin. Don't engage until you know all the variables…damn.." Robin had jumped off the roof and landed on the back of the perp, forcing him down to the ground, fist reaching out to club the knife from the man's right hand. As the perp fell, Batman caught the flash of the second knife in the man's left hand as it swept up and back to embed itself into Robin's left shoulder. The woman, freed from her attacker, shrieked and ran away, apparently unharmed.

As soon as he saw Robin make his move, Batman was sweeping down from the opposite rooftop. He landed just as the knife hit home and pushed Robin away from his attacker, the knife coming loose and clattering to the ground. Batman grabbed both the perp's wrists and kicked both both weapons out of reach. Restraining the perp with a foot planted on the back of his neck and both wrists cuffed, Batman spared a look at his partner.

"How bad?" He ran a sharp eye down his partner's arm where the blood was dripping to the fingertips of his left gauntlet.

Robin held his upper arm with other hand and grimaced. "Looks worse than it is. Alfred's gonna kill me when he has to clean this uniform, though. It's brand new."

"Okay, put pressure on it and we'll take care of it in the batcave. I'll call Gordon and have his men pick up our friend here. Since his victim's made tracks, he'll probably only get a night in jail," Batman sighed. Crime-fighting was often made more difficult by the victims themselves. He reminded himself to be patient; people didn't ask to be victimized. It wasn't their fault when they reacted against their own interests.

Robin pulled a gauze pad out of a belt-pouch and held it tightly to his upper arm. Batman waved him out of the alley first, then lifted his foot from the back of the perp's neck, leaning over him. "Try that again and you'll hurt worse the next day than you did tonight. Understand?" The man looked up at Batman blankly and nodded vigorously. Satisfied, Batman followed Robin out of the alley and to the batmobile.

The ride back to the batcave was quiet. Robin knew he'd blown it. He'd gotten sloppy and Batman would be right to call him on it when they got back. He'd been Batman's apprentice since he was nine years old and still wondered if he'd ever be able to hit Batman's standard. Or if anyone could, except for Bruce of course. He leaned back against the head-rest, still applying pressure to his arm. He'd been lucky that guy hadn't been carrying a gun instead of the pig-sticker he'd gotten him with.

Batman said nothing, glancing at his young partner periodically. Robin already knew he'd blown it but didn't understand the severity of the problem. He'd been careless lately; disobeying orders, not thinking things through, ignoring Batman's safety protocols. That had to stop, for the boy's own safety.

When they arrived at the batcave, Batman was silent. Instead, he went over to the medical area and opened the first aid kit. "Up here," he gestured toward the examining table. Robin sighed and took a seat. Batman remained silent as he carefully slit Robin's sleeve and examined the wound. "Puncture, about an inch deep." Changing into sterile gloves, Batman washed out the wound and put a bandage on it. "You're up to date on your tetanus shot." It was a statement, not a question.

"Okay, when are you going to say it?" Robin couldn't stand the silence any more.

"What do you want me to say?" Batman's voice, as always, was controlled but Robin had years of experience reading the emotions lying underneath.

"You're mad at me because I blew it out there. You're right. I didn't check for another weapon before I jumped. I'm sorry," Robin slumped a bit, ashamed that head been so stupid.

Batman was still silent. "Well, aren't you going to yell at me?" Robin said finally.

"No. But I do want to point out to you that you should know better by now," Batman pulled off the sterile gloves and began to clean up the used swabs. "You heard me and you jumped anyway. You ignored my instructions and you could have been killed by a lucky blow from that knife."

Robin looked up, frowning as he pulled his domino mask off. "But I wasn't. I've been your partner since I was nine years old and I've survived this long. Bruce, I can handle myself. I'm not a fragile soap bubble that's gonna pop if I get hit with something. I didn't get killed tonight. Or last week when that thug clocked me. Or a month ago…"

Bruce pushed back his cowl, blue eyes icy and lips compressed. "You've been getting sloppy. I've discussed your failings with you but I'm not seeing any improvement. Do I need to bench you to convince you that you need to exercise caution when you're out there with me?"

Dick glared at his father until he finally had to look away. Deep breath. "Okay, Bruce. I'll try to slow down and catch your signals better. I just…get amped up, you know? It's such a rush, what we do. It's like flying on the trapeze, the ground so far away and nothing but you and the bright lights.."

Bruce's expression softened. "All right. Hit the showers and we'll work on this some more. I'll see you upstairs."

"Okay, Bruce," Dick hopped off the table and headed for the shower area, feeling vaguely dissatisfied with the conversation. He still thought that Bruce was over-protecting him again but it didn't do to say so. It was Bruce's way or the highway. At least until he could persuade him that Robin had good ideas, too.


	2. Nightwing

CHAPTER 2

PRESENT DAY

:: Has he given the information yet?::

(sounds of a man screaming in the background)

::No. He has some strange kind of mental programming, either a protection against interrogation or some feature of the human brain. They are a new race to us, after all. Instead of reviewing the codes for us, he is reliving his life history. No fear, if this continues he will finish recounting his youth and will tell us about his adult years and his design of the encryption patterns of the enemy.::

::How long will that take? His mind is breaking down as we speak and soon we will be left with a useless husk. The (untranslatable), while useful, destroys human subjects too quickly. And can you do something about that( untranslatable epithet) noise he is making?::

::I am sorry Honored (untranslatable title). We will paralyze the subject's vocal cords to minimize the unpleasant vocalizations. Have you any other commands? ::

::No. Continue, but let me know the instant you have that encryption.::

* * *

Nightwing surfaced. The dim room was empty for the moment, the green lighting playing over the non-existent corners of the rounded space. Euclidean logic had no life here. Sounds had flavor, smells hurt like razor blades, logic didn't track. And the machine was alive, if you could call unlife a living thing. The machine dragged filaments of the soul out through your eyes, leaving behind nothing but dust and pain. The creature that lived within that horrific construction had gone away for purposes and places unknown. There were no questions for the moment.

He drew in a rough breath, then another, hearing the silence of the echoing place. The light was an olive green, like nothing he'd never seen before. The walls of the room weren't any material he'd ever seen. Nothing was square, nothing made a crisp, clean line. There were only soft, rounded shapes crawling with unrecognizable elements.

He tried to run a hand over his eyes, then remembered. Both arms and legs had been consumed by the machine. He couldn't move, couldn't sleep, didn't need to eat. Half an hour ago, the agony had broken off when the questioner had returned from somewhere and said something to the other alien. A few instructions were given to the machine and a bloated gray tentacle had extruded. It humped its way up its prisoner's body, then wrapped itself around his throat, crawling into his neck and mouth, then down his throat. A long airless, choking moment later it withdrew and Nightwing was silenced. The tentacle divided as the machine drew close and the pale green light engulfed his blue eyes; the tendrils of light dug into his mind and the questioning began again.

Nightwing had grabbed hold of his memories and escaped into them, running for his life. He dove into memory, hid inside it like a life-line until the pain faded away and silence fell. The questions had stopped and he woke to this quiet and a brief period alone. He knew that Batman would find a way to rescue him. He just hoped it would be soon, before his mind was irretrievably broken or he'd given them the encodings.

The wall opened with a sucking sound and the two aliens entered the space again. The machine began its work, the questions descended again, only this time there were no troublesome noises from the subject.

* * *

TWENTY MONTHS EARLIER

Batman dropped a file folder onto Robin's desk. He picked it up and read the name on the tab. "Emil Ravek? Who's he? Thick folder…" he began to thumb through the reports and photographs inside, then whistled. "He's heavy-duty. Why haven't I heard of him before?"

"He hasn't been in Gotham since you were ten years old," Batman said and sat down at the computer terminal. He began to flash a series of gory photographs onto the large screen overhead. "Ravek is a mass-murderer who takes his inspiration from Jack the Ripper. Locally, he's called Ravek the Butcher."

"Why wasn't I involved in the case when you worked it before? I was your partner.." Robin frowned as he read through the GCPD reports. "I mean, you didn't even tell me about it."

Batman smiled grimly. "You were a curious and fairly disobedient ten year old. Ravek was and is dangerous. I didn't want a repeat of the Harvey Dent incident. No, Alfred and I made sure that you knew nothing about this case. After his fourth murder, Ravek disappeared. I hoped that he had died, but it looks like I was wrong." Batman called up a crime scene photo and displayed it on the computer screen. It showed a dismembered body lying on a cement floor in a large pool of blood.

"Where was that found? And when?" Robin cleared his throat, suddenly trying to keep his voice from breaking.

"Last night. It was found in the old Mariner Marine warehouse. It's tied up in probate since the previous owner died suddenly. I'm still working on identifying the victim." Unemotionally, batman used the laser pointer to display portions of the picture. "We know that this is probably Ravek or a copy-cat by the cut marks. The murderer has used an unusual tool, not often found today. He dismembered the body with a halberd. That's consistent with Ravek. He was always fairly flamboyant in his dress and use of weaponry."

"What's the victimology?" Robin asked. "I don't see any reports in the file. Didn't the FBI's Behavioral Science Unit take a look at this guy?"

"No. They weren't interested in yet another Gotham crazy. I did my own version; it's there at the end of the file." Batman pointed to the last tab.

"You really made an effort to hide all this from me," Robin commented as he flipped through the pages.

"As I said, at that age you showed entirely too much interest in the more dangerous criminals I went after. If anything had happened to you, it would have been my responsibility," Batman calmly met his son's irritated gaze. "I'm sorry, Dick, if that upsets you. But those are the kinds of decisions I had to make for you. You're older now and can make your own."

"Uh huh," Robin swallowed the sarcastic remark that tried to break surface. "Okay, your work up says that Ravek is an extremely organized killer with some traits common to disorganized killers. Although he dismembers his victims, he likes to revisit old crime scenes, apparently to relive past glories. The victims are chosen in advance and he likes to play with police as well as with the victim. You don't say what draws him to a victim…"

"I never nailed that down. Many of his killings were a response to real or perceived slights. Others may simply have been crimes of opportunity; he'd notice a neighbor, for example, choose him as a victim and then stalk him until the murder took place. That was his second killing," Batman swung around in the chair. "What would you recommend next?"

Robin grinned. "You're letting me make the call? Okay, let's hit the morgue and take a look at the victim, then hit the crime scene. Sounds like he killed, then left the body. That's another disorganized trait."

"All right," Batman said, then pulled a key ring out of his utility belt and tossed it to Robin. "You drive."

Robin's grin broadened. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this, but he wasn't going to argue with it. "Okay, let's go."

GOTHAM MORGUE

Robin looked around the morgue. Today, the lights seemed to have a faint green tinge, unlike other visits. He was about to comment to Batman when the green faded out into the usual glare of the fluorescent lights overhead. He shrugged and followed Batman over to the morgue attendant. The autopsy report was uninformative.

"Death was from blood loss," Robin commented. "Not surprising."

"No. The tox screen isn't back yet, so there may be more information," Batman said. "Ravek was in the habit of drugging his victims before murdering them."

"What? Mercy?" Robin asked, handing the preliminary coroner's report back to the attendant.

"No. Ease of handling. Ravek, for all that he was a physically muscular man, he didn't like victims who struggled. In his day job he was an actual butcher and was quite strong and musclebound," Batman said.

A killer who liked to immobilize his victims. Robin suddenly shivered, without understanding why. For a moment he saw the green light again, then focused his concentration on what Batman was saying. "….find more at the crime scene…"

"Yeah, let's go check it out," Robin said confidently and followed his mentor from the room.

* * *

PRESENT DAY

JUSTICE LEAGUE BASE; PAN- AFRICA

Batman, lips tight, strode into the command center with Superman following closely, looking equally angry.

"I told you, a one-man team is all that's needed," Batman gritted.

"And I reminded you of your responsibilities here," Superman controlled his urge to shout. Only Batman could make him lose it this fast. Batman, and maybe Lex Luthor. "You should know that there's a long list of heroes who want to go after him. You'll have to be the one to tell them that they aren't good enough in your view."

"Is that what you think?" Batman stopped dead in his tracks. "That this is a judgment on the JLA?"

"He was in the middle of a JLA team when he was captured, so yes, that's what I think is motivating you. At least in part," Superman faced Batman eye to eye, hands on his hips.

"I'm the best qualified because I've worked in stealth all my life," Batman replied, his voice dangerously calm. Workers manning the stations around the two men, even though powered heroes, had begun ducking out and leaving the area. "And, in any case, everyone knows my relationship to Nightwing."

"Yes," Superman rubbed an eye. "He's your eldest son. He was your partner for years. You personally trained him. And if you die now, we all go down! Look. Maybe Diana can talk some sense into you, because I certainly can't. Batman, have you honestly seen the list of the heroes who are volunteering for the extraction mission? Do you know that at least fifteen heroes want to go?"

Batman's mouth cracked into the shadow of a smile. "If we send them all, we'll be understaffed. All right, I'll look at the list. After I talk to J'onn."


	3. Frustration

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'd love to hear some reviews! The stats say that people are reading the story in pretty good numbers. C'mon! It makes me write faster!

CHAPTER 3

You can go with the crazy people in the crooked house  
You can fly away on the rocket or spin in the mouse  
The tunnel of love might amuse you  
And Noah's Ark might confuse you but  
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death

On the Wall of Death  
All the World is far from me  
On the Wall of Death

It's the nearest to being free…

TWENTY MONTHS BEFORE

Robin, dressed in street clothes, sat in the café across the street from Ravek's old apartment building. The crime scene last night had been a bust, so Batman had deployed Robin to stake out the home of Ravek's potential next victim. Long day. He'd just polished off his third cup of coffee and was considering pie. Man, these stakeouts were tedious. When he was younger, doing stakeouts with Batman, he'd often fallen asleep until Batman had started using the time to go over memory or meditation exercises with him. The reward had always been that if he caught Batman in a faulty memory, Robin got a double scoop of ice cream on the way home as his prize. Given the scarcity of sugary snacks at home, that had been a good deal for a perpetually hungry adolescent. He'd only ever been able to collect twice, and he was pretty sure that Batman had thrown the contest at least once. It had been a thrill to have ice cream at midnight with the waitresses doting on the young Robin.

They'd had word that Ravek was after his ex-landlord, something about a missing security deposit. The landlord, Victor Usk, had called Gotham P.D., saying he'd seen Ravek around and was convinced he was being stalked. So far, Robin hadn't seen anyone matching the photo Batman had provided. Robin stretched in the cramped booth. It was rare that Batman turned him loose to work on his own, especially when the quarry was extremely violent like Ravek. Normally they worked as a pair, Batman being the overprotective parent that he was.

Robin's eyes narrowed and he glanced out the plate glass window, looking at the roofs of the surrounding buildings and focusing on the shadows. Nope. No sign of Batman. Good. He wasn't playing smother-hen on this one.

Half an hour later, Robin had given in to the urge and was working on a piece of cherry pie when he noticed movement near the apartment house door. His eyes sharpened. Ravek, and he was moving around the back of the building. He quickly swallowed the last bite, scrubbed his mouth with the napkin and tossed a twenty on the table for the startled waitress. He was out the door before the bell stopped jingling.

Padding warily along the side alley, he caught sight of Ravek at the rear door. Ravek was over six feet tall and built like a blockhouse. His bulky muscles were overlain by a layer of soft living, but Robin had no doubt that the man could pack a wallop if he tried. Bullet-shaped head was shaved bald and the man's expression was surly. It looked like it was set that way. Watery blue eyes scanned the rear face of the building, looking for an entrance maybe?

Ravek abruptly turned around, scanning the area for motion. Robin ducked behind his dumpster just in time. Okay, the guy had good hearing too. Better play this one carefully. As he watched, Ravek finished his survey and moved around from the back of the building. At a judicious distance, Robin followed.

To Robin's surprise, Ravek stopped at the Waxworks Murder Museum and slipped in through a back door. The sign on the front said "Closed for Renovation". Robin knew that he should call Batman for back up about now, but he hesitated. He straightened up. No, this was his case and he wanted to close it himself. Just as he was about to go in, Ravek appeared at the door with a broadsword in his hand. Flamboyant. That's what Batman had said. And yes, there would be some unusual weapons in there. Robin crouched in the shadows and followed where Ravek led.

Three blocks down and over one. Ravek stopped at what looked like his new apartment and things went quiet. So, what now? It was starting to get late, his watch said it was 7:00 p.m. Ravek could be in for the night.

He waited a bit longer and heaved a sigh of relief. Ravek was on the move again. The sword was encased in a long sports bag this time and Ravek retraced his steps back toward his old apartment house. Robin followed again, ducking into a doorway when Ravek looked back with suspicion. Ravek's apparent nervousness made him wonder whether Ravek had spotted him. Yet the man continued his deliberate movements and he had the sword, or something, in his bag. Maybe he hadn't been blown. He followed steadily on.

Back at the apartment house, Ravek entered through the front door. Robin ducked into the alley behind the building and, sensing that things were coming to a head, pulled off his street clothes and slapped on his mask to become Robin. Nimbly, he free-climbed the side of the apartment house, which was graced with an overabundance of cornices and external decorations from the last century.

When he found the right window, he stopped and perched outside, watching carefully. He saw Ravek bundle up his ex-landlord and haul him over his shoulder. Stop him on the front door? No. The cops could get him for kidnapping and assault but not attempted murder without Ravek taking a substantial step toward killing his victim. And worst of all, they had nothing to tie Ravek to the earlier murder. Robin would follow.

This time, Robin flitted from rooftop to rooftop as Ravek made his way toward the docks. Nobody seemed to notice that Ravek had a man slung over his shoulder, but then, this was the worst part of Gotham where violence was common. Robin began to plan his strategy for the final moves in the chess game.

Finally, perched on a seafood cannery, Robin watched as Ravek unslung his prey and tossed him to the plank flooring of the old dock. Ravek then opened the sports bag and hauled out the biggest sword Robin had ever seen. Based on the weapons-types Bruce had made him memorize, he guessed that it was a claymore, the Scottish great sword.

Robin dove for the pavement, throwing two batarangs in succession at Ravek. They both hit with a thump, rocking the man backwards but not, alas, off his feet. Robin pulled a third, while Ravek grinned at him broadly and raised the broadsword overhead.

"What! You're threatening me with that little thing?" Ravek hooted and swung the sword at Robin. Ravek was fast with the weapon, but Robin nimbly jumped away and threw the batarang, aiming for Ravek's brawny wrist. It hit, but not deeply, only succeeding in raising the man's ire.

Robin scanned his surroundings, looking for a larger and heavier weapon, but remained confident that he could tire his opponent out just by drawing his fire. That worked fine, until Robin's foot twisted on a crooked board and he went down onto his back, knocking the wind out of him.

Ravek grinned even more broadly and swept up the claymore to finish him when a huge black shadow came from out of nowhere and leapt onto Ravek, forcing him down. Batman grabbed Ravek's sword wrist and forced the blade away. Batman quickly had the man in handcuffs before Robin could make a move.

"Why didn't you call for backup?" Batman asked in a low growl over his shoulder as he hoisted Ravek to his feet. Robin climbed slowly upright, brushing the dust off resentfully.

"I didn't think I needed it," Robin retrieved the batarangs he'd thrown and slid them back into their sheaths in disgust. "I could have brought him down just fine, Batman. You didn't have to babysit me."

Batman bit off what he was about to say, then continued, "Your job was to observe and report, Robin, not to engage. I thought I made that clear before you left this morning," Batman began to tie a furious Ravek to the nearest lamp-post, ignoring the man's threats and swearing.

Robin checked the 'victim' and found that he was waking up and otherwise unhurt. "You call Gordon?" he asked Batman. "Or should I try to do at least one useful task on this one?"

"I already called it in. They'll be here shortly," Batman replied crisply. Everything's taken care of here. Let's go home."

"Yeah. Let's," Robin said darkly and stalked after Batman to the batmobile. The drive back was simmering with undercurrents. Finally, Robin couldn't take it anymore. "Batman, I'm seventeen years old. I don't need you to babysit me."

"Ravek is a serial killer with a talent for throwing attackers off guard," Batman said. "Considering what was about to happen when I got there, you needed my help."

"I wasn't in any danger," Robin grumbled. "I could have moved out of that sword's reach in time." He turned in his seat and glared at his father. "Bruce, I've been in constant training since I was eight. That makes nine years' worth! Surely I've learned something by now."

Batman was quiet. "All right. Maybe I am overprotecting you a bit. But you still should have called for backup. You exceeded your mission; you were supposed to conduct surveillance only!"

"Okay," Robin answered carefully. "I'll remember to follow orders only and never to exceed them. If that's what you want."

"That's not what I said, and you know it," Batman replied. "You need to pay more attention to your own safety, Dick, and I don't see you doing it. It worries me."

"Stop worrying, Bruce," Robin looked out the window, wondering how the man who'd trusted him on the streets of Gotham when he was twelve could suddenly become so overprotective. "I'm always careful."

* * *

NINETEEN MONTHS PRIOR

"Batman, you can't be serious," Robin paced the batcave. "I'm the team leader. I can't just cut my hours with YJ to spend more time patrolling Gotham."

Batman's stern eyes watched his son pace. "You used to think that patrolling with me was the best part of the job."

Robin stopped and ran a hand through his, in Batman's expressed opinion, too-long hair. "It's not that I don't enjoy patrolling with you. I do. It's just that the team needs me. If we're going to do all the contingency planning you want, I have to be there."

Batman snorted. "Delegate. I've had to learn that with the League. By the way," Batman moved to a far corner of the cave and returned wheeling a bright red motorcycle. "You've been asking for this, as I recall. I know that, now that you have your drivers' license, tooling around in the family Lamborghini is starting to pall."

Robin's face broke into a broad grin as he walked over to the new 'Robin-cycle'. "Damn, that's beautiful Bruce…"

"Language, Master Dick," Alfred's amused voice carried from the other end of the cave. "Ten dollars into the swear jar and no checks accepted."

Robin chuckled and blushed simultaneously. "Okay, Alfie. I'll put the money in after dinner as soon as I scrounge some cash." He looked up at a smiling Batman. "Thanks, Bruce. I've wanted my own wheels for a long time now."

"Well, remember, helmet and protective gear. You've taken the motorcycle safety class.." While Batman spoke, Robin was busily strapping on the helmet, had seated himself on the motorcycle and was busily reviewing the dashboard.

"Yeah, gotcha Batman…" Robin said absently as he fired up the machine. Batman raised his hands helplessly and backed away as Robin sped off on his new bike.

* * *

PRESENT DAY

JUSTICE LEAGUE BASE; PAN- AFRICA

J'onn J'onzz, aka the Martian Manhunter, was closeted in the small office set aside for the psi-corps portion of the JLA army. Batman tapped, then opened the door without waiting for a reply. To his surprise there were not one, but two Martians present.

"Hello, M'gann…J'onn," Batman said when he saw the two sitting together across a small table.

Both looked up at him with strained expressions. He noted that M'gann seemed a little less green than usual. "Superman told me the situation. What can you tell me?" Batman asked.

"Well," said J'onn cautiously. "Nightwing seems to be beating the Machine for the moment."

Batman slid into the seat next to M'gann. "What is the Machine?"

"It's a construction which combines living tissue with technology," M'gann replied softly. "It has been used for interrogation among some telepathic races. It's been banned for centuries now."

"Why?" Batman kept his gaze fixed on M'gann, Nightwing's friend and teammate.

"It…devours the soul…There is nothing left when the Machine has finished." M'gann looked down, eyes moist. "But it was never intended for humans. That is both good and bad."

"When he first took on covert operations in this war, Nightwing consulted with us," Martian Manhunter broke in. "We discussed the possibility of capture, the Machine and how a human might defeat it if needed. I showed him a technique that might help and it appears that he is using it."

"What is that?" Batman asked.

"Memories have power," M'gann said. "Flood the Machine with information and you can buy time, especially if the information is emotionally charged. Living among humans, I've noticed that human emotion is….stronger…than non-human."

Batman half-smiled. "He's giving the Machine a bad taste in its mouth?"

"An accurate description," J'onn said. "He is giving us time to rescue him."

"Where is he? Do we have a fix on him? I know he had the subcutaneous chip put in…" Batman got up and led the two Martians to the main control room.

"We know where he is," J'onn brought up a screen and pointed to a small red light. "That is him. The challenge will be getting a team in and extracting him in time."

"Before he gives out the information?" Batman asked.

"Before he dies," M'gann answered.


	4. The Wall of Death

CHAPTER 4

Well you're going nowhere when you ride on the carousel  
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell  
The switchback will make you crazy  
Beware of the bearded lady  
Oh let me take my chances on the Wall of Death

Dick Grayson had found an old motorcycle in a shed on the grounds of Wayne Manor, an Indian. Since he clearly couldn't ride the Robin-Cycle as Dick Grayson, he decided to try and restore it. Consultation with Alfred told him of the wonders of the classic Indian cycle as well as beginning lessons in rebuilding the machine. Bruce was interested.

"Yes, that was my father's old bike," Bruce remembered wistfully that morning over breakfast. "It's a Sport Scout, I think. He was very fond of it."

"Would it be okay if I rebuilt it?" Dick asked, waiting for Bruce to nix the plan. Instead, Dick was surprised when Bruce began to nod slowly.

"Sure. Go ahead. That old bike deserves another life. My Dad would have loved that." Looking kindly at Dick, Bruce put down his coffee cup and reluctantly left for his day of meetings at Wayne Enterprises. With an unlimited budget and Alfred's enthusiastic advice, Dick began his project.

* * *

Back at Happy Harbor, Wally noticed Dick's new obsession. Despited Wally's nervousness at visiting bat-territory, Dick invited him out one Saturday to see the almost-finished project.

"Are you sure Batman doesn't mind my being here?" Wally dug into his bag of pretzels while Dick unlocked the old shed. "Here she is," he led Wally over to the old cycle, now propped up on tarps and smelling of new paint. "I just need to do a little more work before I can ride her."

"She's beautiful," Wally admitted. "Where did you get that shade of blue?"

Dick grinned. "The batcave. Batman uses it to touch up the batmobile. Bruce said I could use it; that surprised me. For once, security took second place."

"Well, I guess you're okay as long as you don't have a line of little bat-symbols running along the side," Wally munched meditatively. "So, what's with all the fighting you and Bats have been doing lately? I could see the tension in your jaw during the last team meeting."

Dick sighed and sat down on an overturned bucket. "I dunno. It just seems like we can't agree on anything, anymore. And everything I do in the field is wrong lately. I'll be doing just fine, holding my own, and Batman will suddenly swoop in to rescue me as though I were still nine years old! And now he wants me to cut my team hours. I just don't get it."

Wally sat down beside him, pulling his own overturned bucket next to his friend. "Y'know, I could be mistaken, but I think he's afraid."

"Batman? Afraid of what?" Dick grabbed a pretzel from Wally's bag.

"You're getting older, bro. You'll be of age soon, off to college, life, the big world. You aren't his little kid anymore.

"C'mon, Wally, he couldn't be…Bruce?" Dick paused and sat in thought for a bit, then remembered his guest. "I…gotta think about that. But anyway, do you still want to hit that carnival that's in town?"

Next to a circus, Dick purely loved a carnival. It had the same smells as the circus, the same air of possibility. Sometimes Haly's would join forces with a carnival. Dick had loved that, walking through the sideshows with his parents, eating cotton candy and popcorn, riding the rides. And his favorite, the Wall of Death.

They approached the large wooden bowl of the motordrome, The crowd was already filing in to see the show. They joined the line and Dick fished in his pants pocket for the admission. "My treat," he told Wally.

"This thing looks like a giant salad bowl," Wally said, eyeing the curved two storey walls that went straight up.

"Yeah," Dick grinned, memories filling his mind. "We used to have one that travelled with Haly's. The motorcycles would roar around the walls, then the cyclists did tricks."

"Like what?" Wally eyed it dubiously. "Oh, I get it. They go fast enough that centripetal force keeps 'em stuck to the walls."

"Yeah. It's almost as much fun at the trapeze," Dick looked wistfully at the building, then saw the barker who was collecting the entrance fees. "Billy? Billy Carstairs?" he shouted.

The barker gave a ticket to the man ahead of them in line, then did a double take. "Dick? Little Dickie Grayson…It's been years!"

Dick just nodded, beaming. "Billy, what are you doing here? Why aren't you with Haly's? I thought the motordrome looked familiar but I thought you'd still be travelling with them."

"They're doing a foreign tour and in Europe they have their own walls of death attractions. Figured I'd do better here." Billy eyed the mounting crowd. "I gotta sell more tickets. Say, you wanna ride the wall of death tonight, Dickie? I bet you'd be just as good as you were as a shaver!"

"You still got number 16?" Dick grinned.

"Have I still got the best motorcycle I ever had? You bet I do! Tell you what, I'll put you in first, before the headliner so you don't have to be very good. You'll be a sort of warmup act. If you're workin' tonight, I can't take your money, nor your friend's either." Billy handed back the bills and waved Dick and Wally inside the chained off area. "Go see Jim and he'll get you set up. Just tell him I sent you!"

As they walked in, Wally looked as though he didn't know whether to laugh or be scared. "Dick," he said softly. "Are you sure Bruce would want you to do this? I mean, they call it the 'wall of death' for a reason, don't they?"

"It's as safe as the trapeze," Dick said. "As long as you're trained. And I am."

They spoke to Jimmy who didn't look surprised at all. Dick knew that Billy liked to pad his show with amateurs who didn't have to be paid. He also knew that Billy'd seen him riding the cycles when he was eight. A natural he'd called Dick. Jimmy got out number 16 and handed Dick a jacket and helmet. "Be careful when you hit twenty feet, the wall starts sloping inward there to an overhang. You've got a good ten more feet of gradual curve before you're upside-down."

Dick grinned and nodded, then put on the helmet. He started the motorcycle and Jimmy waved him into the circular track. While Dick rode laps at the base of the bowl, Billy introduced him as the "Bravest Teenager in Gotham—Dick Grayson!" and pointed the flag he held at Dick. Dick waved back and started to increase his speed.

He could see Wally watching from the middle of the bowl; once the entrance door was shut it became part of the track. Dick turned his attention back to the bike and gunned the motor. Gradually he hit the banked part of the track, steadily increasing his speed until he was perpendicular to the ground.

It felt like flying. He felt free, almost as free as flying on the trapeze, doing his famous quadruple roll then grabbing the catcher's arms safely. Speed increasing he climbed the wall of death, tracking higher, past twenty feet, twenty five, thirty and he was hanging upside down under the lip of the track. He raised an arm and waved at the crowd as he flew by them and heard them roar.

Still grinning like an idiot, he gradually slowed down the cycle until he was at twenty feet and sticking to the wall like a fly. He balanced carefully, taking first one hand off the handlebars, then the other, still maintaining his speed. He did one lap, two, three then felt a wobble and put first one hand and then the other one down. He sensed flashes of light coming from the sidelines and knew that he'd made it into somebody's vacation shots. He could have ridden longer and done more tricks but decided that it wouldn't do to upstage the main act. He began slowing the bike, riding one-handed the entire time and waving with the other. Soon he was on the banked track again and finally rolled to a stop in the center. He handed off the bike to Jimmy, then took his bows. The crowd went wild when he took his helmet off and they could see that it really was a teenager riding the bike. More flashes from the crowd. With a final wave, Dick ran to the exit door, followed by Wally. They passed a disgruntled looking headliner and ran back out into the carnival laughing.

"So, what didja think of the 'wall of death'?" Dick asked as they walked away.

Wally shook his head. "Dick, I've always thought you were pretty crazy to take the chances you do when you don't even have meta-powers. Before, I just thought it was the Bat's influence but I think I was wrong. You're just plain nuts."

Dick frowned. "No, I'm not. It's perfectly safe if you understand the physics and know how to keep up your speed. There's nothing to it. It's no more exciting than you vibrating through walls."

"Well, you better not tell Bruce about today or he'll flip," Wally finished his cotton candy.

"Well, I won't tell him," Dick said, handing Wally the rest of his. "And I know you won't either."

Mouth stuffed full of cotton candy, Wally shook his head 'no'.

* * *

The next morning Dick got up later than usual. He'd stayed up late seeing Wally off. Bruce was already at the breakfast table, hidden by the newspaper when Dick sat down. Alfred brought his usual glass of juice but was unusually silent. Usually Alfie said something like "Good Morning, young sir." But today, nothing. Uh oh.

Bruce looked at Dick over the top of the paper, blue eyes charged with ice. Dick began to feel guilty without quite knowing why. It was hard to hide anything from Bruce but he'd do his best. He really hoped that Bruce…

"Newest to the carnival circuit is a young Dick Grayson, ward to billionaire Bruce Wayne, giving a stellar performance on the 'Wall of Death'." Bruce read from the paper." Although riding the motorcycle at extreme speeds, young Grayson skillfully rode a wall twenty feet high before riding upside-down under the lip of the tank…" Bruce read, then put the paper down with a steady glare at Dick. "Do you have an explanation?"

Dick decided to brazen it out. "Well, the guy running the show was an old friend of mine from Haly's and he let me ride his old bike…"

Bruce listened and glared until Dick's uncertain explanation wobbled out. Taking a deep breath as if asking for strength, Bruce put the paper down, folded it, folded his hands on it and began. "Dick, do you remember why you don't defend yourself against bullies at school? Why you aren't an Olympic gymnast, although you have the skills for it? Why you don't try out for sports or for martial arts competitions?" Bruce stopped, jaw working, then went on. "Because if you are seen to be too proficient in any of those skills, you may be recognized as Robin. If you are Robin, then I am Batman and both of us are in terrible danger. Do you remember our discussions about that?"

"Yes sir," Robin said. "But everyone knows I'm a circus performer. So what if I show it off every now and then?"

"You're an ex-circus performer, Dick. And driving motorcycles upside-down is dangerous! You didn't know the machine. You hadn't surveyed the area, didn't even know if the walls were sound. That track is made of wood, isn't it? What would have happened if a board broke and you lost contact with the wall? Or if the motorcycle engine had stalled while you were upside-down?" Bruce's voice got colder and colder as he recounted all the things that could have happened.

Dick looked his father straight in the eyes. "And you weren't there to intervene, Bruce, that's what bothers you the most, isn't it? You couldn't snatch me away from danger, could you? It was all up to me, win, lose or draw. You have to get it through your head, Bruce. I can do this. You don't have to catch me anymore." Dick stood up. "I'm not hungry. I'll be at the Mount Justice if you need me," he said and walked out of the room.

* * *

MOUNT JUSTICE

"According to national news media and TV/Pan-Africa, the massive transport ships are part of a newly reached set of concessions between the Bialyan government and the interplanetary government of the T'Shal Alliance. In exchange for a massive infusion of technology, Bialya has agreed to cede vast open acreage amounting to half of the country for T'Shal's penal colonies. Expected to resemble an early version of Botany Bay, Australia, the T'Shal prisoners will roam freely within their colonies…"

"Boring!" The channel was swiftly changed and more channels cycled through at top speed.

"Wally! Would you stop that! I was watching that!" Robin, dressed in street clothes but no sun glasses, began the normal evening wrestling match with his best friend over the television remote. Wally, grinning evilly, simply zipped around his younger friend, dialing channels at a frenetic rate until he arrived at the sports channel he wanted.

A slender hand plucked the remote from Wally and tossed it to Robin. "Wally, behave!" Artemis scowled, bapping him on the head with the magazine she had been reading.

"Thanks, Artemis!" Robin called out and returned to the news channel. He was deeply focused on the news when the Zeta tube lit up and Batman was announced, "Batman 0-2".

All three occupants of the couch got up to meet Batman as he entered. Looking around, Batman asked brusquely, "Where is the rest of the team?"

"I think M'gann is grocery shopping. And Superboy is with Superman right now, training," Robin answered tensely. "Do you have a mission for us?"

"Robin, I'd like to speak with you. Alone," Batman eyed Robin's companions until they shrugged and left the room.

"Okay," Robin said, arms folded over his chest. "What have I done now?"

Batman sighed. "You haven't done anything. I came to advise you that we may soon be on a war footing."

Robin's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?" He sank back onto the couch and Batman sat next to him.

"I see you were following the news from Bialya. As it turns out, Bialya and Pan-Africa have signed deals with the Alliance of the T'Shal that will turn their countries, almost the entire continent of Africa into a huge penal colony for aliens." Batman's face looked more worried than Robin had seen it in a while.

"Who are these T'Shal anyway?" Robin asked.

"We still aren't sure. We've known about them for about five years. They're roughly humanoid, and I do mean roughly. The Martians tell us that the T'Shal are telepathic but won't tell us more, just that they should be avoided. The Justice League has opposed the Pan-Africa plan ever since the T'Shal proposed it, but national sovereignty allows Bialya and Pan-Africa to agree to this." Batman's fists clenched. "I don't see any good coming from this, but both countries are poor and lacking in natural resources. This is their way of boosting their economies."

"But war? When? How?"

"We won't start it, but if those aliens start escaping from their colonies we'll have to take action. Or if the T'Shal show signs of expansion…" Batman's eyes looked bleak.

"You mean, world conquest..?" Robin shook his head. "It sounds so trite, like an old movie.."

"The threat is real. There's no need to alert the team yet; there's nothing definite and nothing may happen any time soon. But I wanted you to be aware of the possibilities." Batman got up. "Oh, and Alfred wants to see you at dinner on Saturday. He says that the family should dine together at least once in a week."

Robin nodded. He had calmed down since their last clash and agreed that it was time to go home.

Batman left as abruptly as he had arrived. Afterwards Artemis and Wally came back into the living room. Robin had shut the television off and was staring moodily at the blank screen, his knees drawn up to his chin.

"So what's up? Batman was even more abrupt than usual," Artemis sat down on the couch.

"Yeah, Rob, do we have a mission?" Wally asked eagerly.

"No. I mean, not really," Robin answered absently and shivered.

"What's wrong?" Artemis asked.

Robin scraped up a laugh. "Oh nothing, someone just walked over my grave. Here, Wally, you pick the program tonight."


	5. Robin falls

CHAPTER 5

Author's Note: Portions of the dialogue in the portion about Joker and the diamond necklace was pulled from Batman 408, written by Collins, Warren and DeCarlo, entitled "Did Robin Die Tonight?".

PRESENT DAY

Nightwing heard silence again and the pain receded. The creatures had left and shut the Machine down; this must be their version of night. Or maybe it really was night time. He couldn't tell. Time hadn't tracked since he'd been captured. No meals to mark the time, the Machine fed him, took care of wastes, kept him alive whether he wanted to be or not. He didn't know where he was half the time.

He was grateful for Batman's endless meditation training sessions. As a kid he'd been bored with them but had seen the value in the discipline, so he'd cooperated. If he hadn't had the training, he'd never have lasted this long. He drew a deep breath and tried to yell but nothing came out, not so much as a whisper. They'd done something to his vocal chords. They were telepaths, what did they care about the ability to talk...to sing...to cry for help?

He was starting to think he wasn't going to get out of this one. He'd been here so long...M'gann had said they'd be listening for him and he hoped it was true. But he wasn't a telepath and she was out of range for them to be able to converse telepathically. Memories of a hundred telepathic discussions with Wally, Artemis, Connor, M'gann, Kaldur ran through his mind. A friend's voice would be...life...joy...light just now. He felt the water running from his eyes and wondered whether the T'Shal would silence that, too.

* * *

JUSTICE LEAGUE BASE; PAN- AFRICA

Batman stilled when he heard M'gann's pronouncement. "How long do I have to retrieve him?"

"It's hard to say," M'gann replied, thinking hard. "He's still fighting and isn't showing signs of weakening, but I'm getting a lot of sadness from him. Of course, that could be the memories too."

"What is he remembering?" Batman asked, stifling the automatic rush of guilt.

M'gann raised compassionate eyes to him. "He's remembering the last few months that he was truly home; when he was Robin and knew his place in the world. Aside from his parents' death, these are his most emotionally charged memories. And for him, they are the most useful right now."

"I...see," Batman struggled to keep his face impassive, well aware that M'gann could read through him.

"Could you..talk to him? Telepathically? You can hear him..." Batman asked, his voice harsh.

M'gann shook her head. "I'm a strong telepath, Uncle J'onn says, but not that strong. I can hear Nightwing...because I've touched his mind so often over the years, but I can't push my voice into his mind over this distance. When I am fully adult and trained, I may be able to. But not right now." She smiled sadly. "I wish I could. He's longing for a friend's voice."

Batman's fists clenched. "How did he come to be captured?" he growled. Dick was probably taking stupid chances again. He'd been expecting news like this since he'd fired him.

"He went out with the team, you know, the "Dirty Tricks Squad" he calls us. We were going to plant some explosives around the enemy perimeter and we were bringing weapons to the resistance. Nightwing took the lead group, Wally and Artemis, while Superboy and I guarded our back trail. We heard shouting and gunfire, then Wally ran up carrying Artemis. It was a set-up," M'gann looked away from Batman's still face. "Nightwing had been caught in a man-trap. They couldn't get him loose and the guards were coming, so Nightwing ordered the team to retreat while we could. We...we left him there." M'gann's voice trailed off into silence.

Batman was silent for a long moment, then nodded and slipped through the door into the main room. He spotted Superman conferring with Wonder Woman and Green Arrow near the main screen. He made eye contact with both and nodded toward the conference room. "We have to talk." He stalked toward the room and shut the door after them.

"I'm going after Nightwing tonight, and don't give me any arguments." Batman eyed all three heroes.

Superman sighed and gestured toward the other two heroes. "You'll have to talk to him. I've tried."

"You can't. The risk is too great," Wonder Woman said bluntly. "Nightwing is only one man but we risk the planet if we lose our greatest strategist."

"You're saying that Nightwing isn't valuable enough to save?" Batman said low. "I'm not the only strategist in the JLA. Wonder Woman's got more classical training than I do and Aquaman's fought entire wars. I am not indispensable. And further, I don't plan to be killed or captured."

"Do we have to lock you down to keep you here, Bruce?" Green Arrow asked. "We can send his team out after him. It doesn't have to be you."

Batman looked from one old friend to another, unable to explain the terrible guilt and grief that had taken possession of him since hearing of Dick's disappearance. This was his fault. He'd fired the boy and effectively cut him off from his family and the life he'd known for close on ten years. But the Batman didn't show weakness to anyone. "I'm better than any team you could send," he said coldly. "And if you try to 'lock me down' I promise you'll regret it." He turned and walked out the door, workers scattering in his path until he arrived at the room assigned to him on the base.

Inside the room, he pulled back his cowl and sagged into a chair. The list of volunteers Superman had mentioned lay on the desk. He glanced at it. Superman was right, half the JLA was on that list, not to mention all of Dick's friends currently on the 'Dirty Tricks Squad'. The trouble was, Dick was being held deep inside the enemy's primary headquarters. Batman, trailing an army of eager young heroes would be so obvious that it would guarantee Dick's execution. No, this had to be a one-man job and he didn't dare wait. He swung around to his personal computer and called up the detailed maps of the area that Dick had loaded last week. He thought Dick had mentioned a cave in the foothills a mile from enemy HQ that his squad had used as a weapons cache...yes. There. The cave was still hidden and would provide a good staging area for a rescue. Mind made up, Batman began packing what he'd need for the trip.

* * *

12 MONTHS BEFORE PRESENT DAY

Everything had gone wrong that day. The weather was bad, when it wasn't raining heavily, the thunder and lightning rained down. The team had just missed capturing a ring of Venom smugglers and were slogging back into the hall at Mount Justice. He was not feeling the 'aster today. Days like this, it didn't pay to get out of bed in the morning. "Go get some hot showers, guys," Robin called to his team. "Have something hot to drink and rest up. Tomorrow will be better." He wished he believed that. He and Batman were fighting again. About what, he couldn't say.

He started checking his messages and found one from Batman. The Joker was suspected of having stolen a valuable diamond necklace on display in a Gotham museum. Batman wanted Robin there asap as back up. Robin checked his watch and if he hurried he might still make it in time. He ran for the zeta tube. Fortunately, Batman had installed one inside the cave. Once inside, he waved at Alfred, hopped on his motorcycle and peeled out into the driving rain.

Batman has said that the necklace, called the "Smile of Death" had been considered cursed for centuries. Dozens of people had been killed either trying to steal it or to keep thieves away from it. Over a hundred carats of white diamonds, it had been nicknamed the 'Hopeless Diamonds' because those who came in contact with them usually suffered.

Robin felt the tire lose traction with the road and slowed down a bit. First rain of the season, the roads were slick with motor oil brought up by the rain. He was wearing a poncho over his costume but it didn't help. The rain was seeping down the back of his neck and his hair was plastered to his head. If his mask hadn't had lenses in it, he wouldn't be able to see a foot in front of him. Okay...there. The Gotham Museum of Art...he could see a helicopter hovering nearby. He grinned. The 'copter was tricked out to look like a clown's head. Three guesses and the first two don't count who that thing belonged to.

Batman and Joker were probably on the roof. He could just take an elevator but no, Robin travelled in style. He parked the bike and pulled out his grapple, shooting to the building's roof and started to climb.

When he climbed over the building's crest he knew he'd guessed right. The Joker's back was to the ledge, facing Batman. Robin saw the gleam of diamonds around the Joker's neck as the clown boasted to Batman.

Robin, just over the ledge, stopped to listen to the Joker rant and smiled at the absurdity.

"This is the pinnacle of my brilliant career!" The clown gloated to Batman. "Feast your eyes on these, the so-called "Hopeless Diamonds"-the Smile of Death! A triumph I achieved alone-No henchmen to sully its purity!" The Joker fondled the diamond necklace while the rain poured down.

Batman began to move on the Joker. "I'll give you purity..." he growled.

Joker pulled out a gun and aimed at Batman. "Uh uh uh! I don't share your absurd anti-firearms fetish, remember!"

Robin's eyes narrowed and he shifted his stance, preparing to leap on the Joker and relieve him of the firearm. He must have made a sound, because suddenly the Joker whirled around toward Robin and fired two gleeful shots.

Robin had a last glimpse of Batman's horrified expression before he felt a lance of fire go through his shoulder and he began to fall backwards over the ledge.

"Robin!" Batman shouted frantically.

Blearily trying to find his footing in the driving rain, Robin managed to clutch the grapple line before he went over the ledge backwards. The rain pounded down while the line tangled around his ankles. He held onto it desperately with his left hand, swinging upside-down by his ankles over the side of the forty story building.

He looked up and saw Batman at the ledge, shouting, "Robin? My God, Robin..." and the world went dark.

Robin clawed his way back to consciousness, and saw Batman still at the ledge, but Joker was threatening to shoot again, to kill Batman while he was distracted. "I..I can make it, Batman-GET him!" he called weakly and grabbed for the line again.

"Can you hang on, son? I have a madman to deal with.." Batman looked distraught, trapped between his need to rescue his partner and to deal with the Joker.

He called me 'son'...thought Robin, elation mixing with increasing dizziness..."Do it!" he called back, forcing his hands to climb the rope and pull his body up. He was still bleeding; could tell he was going into shock. Not a good time for this. While he climbed desperately up, he could feel his hands slipping. His gauntlets, soaked before, were sodden with rain and blood. He was freezing cold, starting to shake and couldn't...hold...his...grip...

He never felt his body slam onto the ledge twenty feet below.

He was vaguely aware of someone cradling him in their arms-Batman? The sounds of multiple helicopters, the sound of a line being shot and the sensation of swinging through the air. Finally it all dimmed out into a long darkness.

He heard voices and felt gentle hands working on his shoulder. It felt numb, must be some good drugs Alfred had given him.

"This can't go on, Alfred. I can't watch someone I care for take a bullet again...My God, he almost died..." Bruce sounded...frantic.

"But he didn't die, sir. As these things go, the wound isn't serious. He'll be back on his feet in a few weeks." Alfred's calming voice came from somewhere near his right shoulder.

"This isn't a job for children and I was a fool to think this could work. Have you seen today's paper? The newscasts?" Rustle of paper.

"Hmmmm...quite a lurid headline, sir. 'Did Robin Die Tonight?'...seen by news helicopter...bleeding copiously...loss of promising young teen crime-fighter...But this is all quite untrue, sir. The young master isn't dead and Miss Vale is simply trying to sell newspapers by adopting a tabloid edge to her reporting." The hands tied off the last stitch and began to wrap bandages. "You've dealt with this type of thing before."

"Dick's never been shot before," Batman's voice was barely audible. "Alfred, I was there. I saw the whole thing and I couldn't even go down that building after him. I still had to deal with that madman with the gun first. I can't do this. Never again. That's it. When he wakes up, I'll break it to Dick. They think Robin is dead? All right, let him **be** dead then. No more Robin!"


	6. Robin 'Dies'

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Like the previous chapter, portions of the dialogue are taken directly from Batman 408, written by Collins, Warren and DeCarlo, entitled "Did Robin Die Tonight?"

Also, I'd like to encourage reviews. The problem with keeping a tight posting schedule and getting out quick chapter updates is that I'm not hearing much back from readers. Folks-your feedback is why I write! (Well, that and playing with the Dynamic Duo). I'm lonely out here—e-mail me! Additionally, I usually send thank-you notes for feedback, 'cause I was taught that it's polite. If you don't want to hear back from me, tell me.

* * *

12 MONTHS BEFORE

Robin faded away into darkness and woke later, feeling groggy. Bruce sat by his bedside, worried eyes trained on him. They brightened when he saw Robin waking up.

"How are you doing?" Bruce asked softly.

"Feel like I fell off a forty story building. Twice," Dick said, rubbing an eye. "Ow.." His shoulder jarred when he moved his hand and arm. "Oh yeah...Joker."

Bruce's eyes hardened. " Yes. The Joker. I dropped him off at Arkham after I had you taken care of. He won't be bothering anyone for a while."

Dick lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Despite Alfred's drugs, his shoulder was starting to throb. "Good. Did you get the "Smile of Death" necklace back to the museum? Sure brought me some bad luck..."

"It's where it belongs," Bruce said. Dick heard a rustling sound as he got up and went to the window. "I wouldn't say your luck was bad on this one. It was more miraculous than anything else..." Bruce's voice sounded sad.

"Aw, c'mon Bruce," Dick opened his eyes to see Bruce's back silhouetted against the window. "I'm always lucky. I always bounce back."

Bruce turned around, his face serious. "But what if you hadn't? Dick, you almost died today. Son, I was an idiot ever to let you out with me as Robin. What was I thinking? To let a child go out and fight crime against some of the most dangerous criminals in Gotham?"

Dick frowned, perplexed. "Bruce, we went through all this years ago. You need me out there. And I'm not a child, not anymore. In a year, I'll be an adult. I can take care of myself."

"No," Bruce said. "No. It's too dangerous. I can't be held back by a kid. In any case, your judgment has been off this past year. You've been taking foolish chances and I've pulled you up short more than once. Your judgment isn't improving, it's only getting worse. Today could have been predicted and I should have benched you long before this."

"So, you're going to bench me?" Despite the shoulder, Dick sat up in the bed, furious. "You can't do that! You need me out there to watch your back. You always have."

Bruce looked at him, determination freezing his expression. "Yes, I can. And you aren't benched. You're fired. No more Robin. It's too dangerous and I, for one, won't be attending your funeral any time soon."

"You can't mean this!" Dick shouted. "I didn't do anything wrong! Joker got in a lucky shot, that's all."

"That's my decision and it's final," Bruce said, heading for the door. "No discussion, Dick. You're done as Robin." The door closed behind him, leaving a distraught Dick Grayson behind.

Dick lay back against the pillows, suddenly transported back to his childhood when he'd been an eight year old orphan. Batman didn't need a partner...did he still want a son? He'd always felt that he'd justified his place in the Wayne household by being Robin. Otherwise, he was just a charity case, the circus kid taken in by the billionaire from pity.

What did that make him then? Had the family he'd thought he'd belonged to all these years only been a figment of his imagination? He stared at the wall until the drugs took over and he slept.

* * *

Dick woke slowly, sure at first that it had all been a horrible nightmare. How could Bruce fire him? He'd been Robin for almost seven years. He shifted in bed and his shoulder stabbed at him. He looked and saw that it was wrapped up in bandages. No nightmare, then; reality.

The door opened softly and Alfred slipped into the room. "I thought I'd check on you, young sir. And how are you feeling?"

"Does shell-shock count?" Dick asked miserably. He turned to the old butler. "Bruce isn't serious is he?"

Alfred's face fell. "Ah, you mean about Robin...? I am very afraid that he is, young sir. I have spoken with him about it at length. I suspect that the news media may be having some effect on his thinking." Alfred fished a newspaper off Dick's desk. "There was a news helicopter in the vicinity when your ...ah...accident occurred."

Dick took the paper and read the headline, then the text. "This is ridiculous. I've been injured before and they never made this fuss." He opened the paper to the second and third pages which contained photo stills taken from the helicopter. "My god..."

"At the time, you were clearly unaware of your jeopardy, but I understand that this is what a reporter would define as a 'hot story'." Alfred moved over, checking the dressing on Dick's shoulder.

"But Alfred, I didn't die," Dick said softly. "I'm not dead."

"And you're going to stay very much alive," Bruce, partially dressed in his Batman costume, said from the doorway. He came over and turned on the television set to Gotham's all-news channel. "What I do is too dangerous for a kid. Robin should stay dead. Take a look," he said.

Dick watched the talking heads on the news dissect Robin's life as a vigilante, implying that Batman had willfully endangered a child, implying that it was past time the relationship be investigated. Then the reporter cut to the video of Robin's rescue. He saw himself lying on a ledge forty stories up, bleeding in the rain, Batman frantically calling to him over the edge. He was scooped into Batman's arms, Batman looking down at him anxiously, checking vitals. Dripping blood, he was carried over Batman's shoulder as they swung away on a line and down to the Batmobile.

Dick couldn't deny the drama of the entire thing. Then he focused on the next footage, showing a tightly bound Joker on the lawn of Arkham Asylum. The announcer was saying something about Joker being left like an unwanted child. Bruce stood in front of the set, his face getting angrier and angrier until he finally shut it off.

"And a dangerous child he is! The most **dangerous** child alive!" Bruce said angrily.

Dick sat up in bed, frowning. "Well, I'm not a child-and I'm not dead either! I just can't go along with what you're saying."

"What, that the Joker's the meanest of mean little kids?" Bruce pulled on his gauntlets.

"No, that I'm a kid! And that Robin is better off left dead!" Dick insisted.

Bruce folded his arms across his chest, his face grim. "You almost **did** die last night, Dick-And had you, the Joker would not have been responsible. I would."

Dick took a deep breath, trying to swallow the hurt. "Are you saying it hasn't been great? That I haven't been your strong right arm?"

"You have, son. But we've been lucky. In what I do, there is no place for a child," Bruce explained.

Dick could feel his face reddening with rage. "A child!" He was ready to jump out of bed and show Bruce how hard a 'child' could punch.

Alfred leaned over and held him down. "Don't excite yourself, Master Dick. You've been wounded," he said soothingly.

"I'll say I've been wounded-plenty of times! But never this deep," Dick bit back the rest of what he was about to say, knowing his voice would break.

Bruce was implacable. "If by that, you mean I've wounded you, son, I'm sorry. And you are a man now, man enough to accept my decision."

"Fine. If you want Robin to stay dead, that's okay with me," Dick said with a rough laugh. "But you've trained me too well-made me what I am." He looked up at his mentor with burning eyes. "You can't keep me from pursuing my own destiny."

* * *

PRESENT DAY

::Well, what progress are you making?::

::No information yet, Honored *untranslatable title*. We are trying::

::The Machine is usually much more effective, especially with primitives like those on this planet. The enemy is beginning to rally and we need those codes. Do what you have to do, but get me that information or you will be replaced. Is that what you want?::

::Oh, no, Honored *untranslatable title*. I am proud to be the Chief Questioner and to serve you. I..I will consult with my colleagues and we will have something for you soon.::

::You had better.::

* * *

4:00 a.m.  
JLA HEADQUARTERS  
PAN-AFRICA

A silent figure darted from the dark building, moving from shadow to shadow. Although the building was heavily guarded and defended by exotic electronic surveillance equipment which included alien technology, the shadow barely registered as a blip on the system.

The figure's foot hit a pebble with a scraping sound an instant before half a dozen floodlights burst into light, trained on a tall man clad in a long black cape, shielding his eyes from the glare.

"Batman, you already know that we're serious," Superman stepped from the shadows and faced his friend.

"And I've already told you that I'm going," Batman's voice was dangerously low. "I've let him down too many times already."

"I'm sorry, but we're here to make sure that you don't leave," Wonder Woman stepped into place next to Superman, followed by Green Arrow and the Flash. "Please don't make us use force."

Batman, who had been planning to remove his chunk of kryptonite from a belt pouch, hesitated. Bad enough to be outnumbered, that was doable. But his opponents packed a punch. He could feel the frustration and rage curdling his gut, but worse than that, the anguish of helplessness. "I watched my family die. I'm not losing anyone else; not when I can save him," he said. "Let me go. Please."

From one side he heard a footstep, then another.

"Superman, let him go," Superboy walked into the glare of the light. "Maybe I can't take you, but I can sure slow you down."

"Connor...Don't do this..." Superman said, eyes flickering to Superboy. "You don't understand the situation."

"We understand the situation perfectly well," M'gann stepped in next to Superboy. "Nightwing is our friend and we left him there. We're going back for him, if Batman will have us." She nodded to Batman.

"This is ridiculous," Wonder Woman said. "You're not even JLA members yet..."

"Not because we're lacking in skills," said Wally West, suddenly appearing next to M'gann.

"And the first person who lays a hand on Batman gets an arrow," Artemis walked over to join him. "I have a special arrow with kryptonite embedded in it, Superman. It won't kill you, but Conner says it'll stop you temporarily and that's all we want."

"Well, Batman, how about it?" Asked M'gann, glancing at Batman. "You trained us. You know what we can do. The bio-ship is ready to go."

Batman sighed. Young army of heroes it is, he told himself. "Fine with me," he answered. "Well," he said to the assembled JLA heroes with an ironic smile. "I don't think you have a choice in that matter anymore."

Superman eyed the hard-eyed young team-members and shrugged. "All right. On your own heads be it. Batman, I assume you have a contingency plan for your own demise?"

"In the computer. Alfred can access it for you. But you won't need it," Batman moved toward his assembled team. "All right, let's go."

* * *

12 MONTHS BEFORE

The next morning, Dick Grayson got up early and packed a small bag. Moving stiffly, he went down to the garage and loaded it onto his motorcycle. Donning a helmet, he started the bike and rode outside, the garage door closing behind him, and rode full speed for the gates. At the gate he stopped and turned to look back at the Manor that had been his home since childhood. He felt like a plant being pulled up by the roots, painfully tearing tiny bits of himself away from the place that had nurtured him for so long. For a moment, he was tempted to go back, but he steeled himself. He had no home now. It was time to go. He set his face to the road and moved out.


	7. A New Hero

CHAPTER 7

The bioship was parked nearby and the team hurried to strap in and take off.

"Where are we going, Batman?" M'Gann asked.

"The cave where your team leaves supplies and weapons," Batman replied. "It's about a mile from enemy headquarters."

"I'll set a course, then," M'gann replied. The ship banked and was soon on course for the cave area.

"Do you have a plan?' Wally asked, a bit nervously. Normally the team had been instructed by Batman, or evaluated but rarely worked with him. Of course Rob...Nightwing had said that Batman was actually pretty easy to work with. He gave clear instructions and made his expectations plain...

"The plan I originally made will have to change," Batman said with a half smile. "Since it will have to accommodate four extra people, but yes, I'm working on it."

"Batman," said Artemis. "We...we didn't want to leave him behind. We stayed as long as we could but we could see the enemy guards running toward us, and Nightwing ordered..."

"I know, Artemis," Batman answered softly. "You did the best you could, but most important, you followed his orders. He couldn't protect you unless you did."

"Yeah, but that wasn't fair to us," Connor said angrily. "We could have fought. Maybe we still could've gotten him loose and out of there. He should have given us a chance."

"Sometimes you have to accept orders you disagree with and trust that your leader knows what he's doing," Batman said. "You know how many years of experience Nightwing has. That's why he's team leader. And besides, we're going to get him out of there." Batman was silent a moment, then asked. "I understand that the team uses telepathy to communicate during missions. Nightwing told me that it doesn't involve anything deeper than a conversational level. Is that right?"

M'gann smiled. "Don't worry that your secrets could be inadvertently shared with the team, Batman. I lock it down so that it can't happen. Unless you intentionally bring something up, your secrets are safe. I discussed this with Rob...Nightwing in depth and he was satisfied."

"Yes, we talked about it," Batman said. "All right, go ahead and activate it for this team. The enemy won't be able to overhear, will they? I understand that they use telepathy."

She shook her head. "No, their telepathy is...different. They would have to make an effort to read us or use a device as an interface, like their...um...Machine."

Batman looked pained and the other team members looked away with troubled faces. Finally Batman asked, "M'gann, what's Nightwing's status?"

M'gann's eyes stopped tracking for a moment, then she replied. "He's holding his own for now, but he's starting to get tired."

"You're listening to him at all times?" he asked and she nodded.

"We haven't stopped listening since he was captured. We need to know when...if...he divulges the information so that we can shut communications down. And also...he might be comforted to know that we are there, even if he can't sense us."

"Can you add me to the circuit?" Batman asked. M'gann's eyebrows went up. "Yes, I can. But are you really sure..."

"Do it. Now," Batman ordered.

"Hey, what about us?" Artemis and Wally demanded. Superboy stayed silent, a troubled expression on his face. He had enough trouble with his own thoughts without adding somebody else's.

"No," Batman replied. "I need to monitor his condition and evaluate Nightwing's ability to assist in his own rescue. For you, it would only be a distraction. And besides, I think he'd prefer a little privacy." Batman stopped at the rebellious looks from the three team members and sighed. "All right, how's this? I'm his father and I say 'no'."

Surrendering to the inevitable, the team dropped into a tense silence.

M'gann caught Batman's eyes. "I can do this, but it may be unpleasant for you. I'm able to shut out other people's thoughts, but you haven't been. Tell me if you want me to cut it off again."

At Batman's nod, M'gann's eyes glowed and he could feel something happening in the back of his mind. It was as though a stream of something had started flowing...thoughts...feelings, some he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge for years began to trickle into his consciousness.

Batman closed his eyes and focused on the faint wisps of memory running through his mind; only it wasn't his memory...

* * *

The trip to Metropolis was longer and harder than Dick had expected. The rain didn't let up, it was as heavy as it had been the day he...no, not gonna think about that. His leather jacket had gotten soaked after the first mile and his jeans were sopping. At least in kevlar, he'd had some insulation. His shoulder started hurting, so he stopped at a gas station and checked his messages. Bruce wanted him to call. Alfred wanted him to call. Bruce wanted to know what he thought he was doing...Dick smirked bitterly at that one. Just doin' what you want, Batman. Robin's out of the nest.

Two from Wally, one from M'gann, one from Artemis and one from Connor. Wally's was headed, "R U dead?" He smiled and called Wally.

"Wally, it's Dick," he began and heard a long incomprehensible string of words. "Wally...wait, Wally...slow down!"

"Rob...we've been so worried about you!" Wally said breathlessly. "We saw you on t.v..."

"Yeah, I know," Dick sighed. "It was a lot less dramatic than it looked. I got shot in the shoulder and fell off the side of a building. Nothing serious, Alfie gave me a couple stitches, that's all. You...uh...won't be seeing me much for a bit."

"Well, yeah, you've gotta recuperate," Wally said. "But you're coming back soon, aren't you? This place isn't the same without Robin."

Dick laughed bitterly. "Wally...dude...Batman fired me. When I woke up, he said I was too careless and he fired me. I'm not Robin anymore."

There was a long pause, then Wally laughed. "Man, you gotta stop playing jokes like that. You really had me going for a second. So when are you coming back, really?"

Dick looked bleakly into the distance. "No joke, Wally. It's true. I'm not Robin anymore. Batman...says he doesn't trust me."

"So where are you going? What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to see Superman and get his advice. He's the nearest thing to an uncle I have. I'll tell you more later, Wally. Gotta go..." Dick hung up and shut the phone off. He didn't want to discuss it anymore. He put the phone back into his pocket and got back onto the bike. Forty more miles to go.

He drew up to the Daily Planet Building, still amused by the giant planet earth on top. Was that tacky, or what? He parked his motorcycle in the garage and made his way to the sixteenth floor where Clark's office was.

He caught a sight of himself in the mirrored elevator doors and cringed a bit. Hair plastered to his head. Pale, drawn face. Red eyes and feverish look. He was really going to look credible while he explained to Superman why he'd left the Manor. Oh well, no help for it. Superman had seen him look worse after battle. The elevator door opened; Dick squared his shoulders and walked into the newsroom.

He approached the receptionist. "Excuse me, I'm here to see Clark Kent..." he said in his best ingratiating voice. The receptionist looked up at him with a smile that fell when she saw how disreputable he looked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but do you have an appointment?" she asked with barely hidden scorn.

"Um...no, but I think Clark will see me," Dick said. "He's an old friend of the family. Please...just call him."

Her lip curled. "And who should I say is asking for him?"

"Dick Grayson. He knows who I am." Dick backed away and painfully sat on a couch near the door, rubbing his shoulder. If Clark wouldn't see him, he didn't know what he'd do next. Zeta to Mount Justice maybe? He might not be on the team, but they were still his friends.

"Dick! How are you? We've all been so worried about you!" Clark came bounding out of his office to Dick. He conscientiously turned to the receptionist, "Thank you, Rachel. Any time Dick stops by, feel free to call me. I always have time for him."

Clark glanced at Dick, eyes travelling from head to toe in a frown. "Come on into the office. You look like you need to sit down before you fall down." He led his young friend into the office on the side and closed the door carefully, locking it. "Sit down, Dick. You look soaked. Let me hang up your jacket for you." Clark took the leather jacket and put it on a hanger, then gave it a quick once-over with his heat vision. He glanced at Dick and looked like he was considering the same treatment for him, then went to a small coffee maker and poured two cups.

"I saw the newswires and the footage. My god, Dick, what the hell happened?" Clark handed him a cup, then sat down across from him. "I called Bruce this morning just to make sure you weren't dead."

Dick took a sip, grimaced, then sipped some more. "Well, as you can see, I'm not dead. But apparently Robin is." He cradled the cup in both hands, warming them. "What did Bruce tell you?"

"Just that you'd fallen off the building after Joker shot you. You were recuperating but he'd decided that being Robin was too dangerous for you and you were retiring." Clark sipped his own coffee, oblivious to the flavor. "He didn't say then that your retirement was involuntary. Then two hours after I talked to him, he called again, frantic because you'd left the house without leaving a note. He said that you were distraught and he feared what you would do. At that point, I didn't know what to think." He put the cup down. "I was getting ready to suit up and go down to Gotham to find out just what had happened."

Dick looked up sadly. "What happened is pretty simple. I got fired. I've been Robin since I was nine years old and now... I thought I'd ask you for advice about what to do now. You're like an uncle, Clark. I've known you almost as long as Bruce."

"Well, the first thing we're going to do is get you someplace where you can rest." Clark eyed him sharply. "You haven't broken any stitches yet, but they're straining and if I'm not mistaken, you're running a fever. You can stay with me until we figure all this out. Come on," Clark motioned toward the door. "You're my guest for the time being."

At Clark Kent's small apartment, Dick was put into a tiny guest bedroom about half the size of his own room at the Manor. Clark fed him lunch, then insisted he take a nap. "You look beat. Relax a bit; there's no hurry for you to go anywhere or do anything right now." Clark said as he shut the door.

Dick obediently lay down on the twin bed and tried to sleep, but he couldn't help hearing through the apartment's thin walls.

"Bruce? Yes, it's Clark. I have your wandering bird here with me. What on earth were you thinking? Uh huh...uh huh... No, he doesn't look good at all. He rode his motorcycle sixty miles in the pouring rain to get here, with that shoulder, and he looks like hell. What did you do to him?...uh huh...So he told me. Bruce, I've never seen any sign of the kind of carelessness you're talking about; he's perfectly competent. And what about theTeam? He's their leader... What'll his status be now? Look, Bruce, you may be their handler, but the Team is supervised by the League. Removing him as leader isn't your call at all. For my money, he's done nothing to deserve it. The simple fact is that you got the stuffing scared out of you when he got shot and now you want to wrap him in padding. It's too late for that, my friend...No..no..I think you're overreacting. Yes, that is my opinion... No, I am not going to send him home to the Manor. I think I'll invite him to stay here until things cool off between you two...Anyway, you've done some serious damage to a really good kid. I told you, he looks like hell. I think...sounds silly but I think you've broken his confidence by taking Robin away from him. He looks...fragile. No, I wouldn't expect you to understand, Bruce. Just...think about it. I'll keep you posted. Okay...Bye."

Dick closed his eyes and wished again that this were all just a bad dream. No place to go anymore. No home. No grand mission anymore. He was just Dick Grayson...circus kid and orphan. He curled up on his good side and found oblivion in sleep.

* * *

The next day Clark spent with Dick. He'd apparently taken the day off and insisted that his houseguest relax a little bit. They had lunch at a little greasy spoon near the Daily Planet.

"Clark!" a female voice called from the entrance to the restaurant. A vibrant young woman in heels came over to the table. "Clark, where have you been? Perry's got a new assignment for you. Oh...I didn't know you were interviewing someone. I'm sorry," she stuck her hand out and shook Dick's hand. "Lois Lane, reporter for the Daily Planet..."

Before Dick could open his mouth, Clark answered, "This is Dick. Son of an old friend of mine. He was in town, so I thought I'd take him to lunch."

"Oh," Lois took one look at Dick and lost interest. "Anyway, Clark, there's this hot new story out of Gotham. Get this, Robin the Boy Wonder was apparently shot by the Joker and hasn't been seen since! Rumor says the kid's dead. Perry wants you to find Batman and get an interview. I thought that maybe with your contacts with Superman, maybe you could..."

"Lois, I'm taking a day off today," Clark said sternly, eyeing Dick whose expression had darkened. "And I don't have any contacts with Batman, via Superman or otherwise. Or at least, no more than anybody else. Go call Commissioner Gordon at Gotham P.D. and see if he'll talk to you. You can have my scoop."

"Okay, if you really don't want it," Lois said. "I'll go do it. Good-bye...um...Dick good to meet you!" Without a backward glance, she pulled out her cell phone and left the restaurant.

"I'm sorry about that, Dick," Clark leaned in and spoke softly. "She gets like that when she's on a story."

"That's okay, I should start expecting it," Dick sighed and pushed the plate away.

"Let's go back to my place," Clark said, handing the waitress some cash. "There's something I want to discuss with you.

* * *

At Clark's apartment, Dick slumped on the couch while Clark took the side chair.

Clark asked, "So what are your plans now?"

Dick looked away, a shamed expression on his face. "I...I hadn't really thought. I do know that I don't want to give up crime-fighting. Batman's trained me too well and I've worked too hard to give it up now. I..If you think I'm competent." He grinned a little. "Actually, I was thinking about that old Kryptonian fairy tale you told me once. Nightwing might be a good name. I mean, he was disowned by his family and went on to become a hero."

Clark grinned back. "I'd be proud if you chose that name for your professional life. It suits you." He leaned forward in his chair. "You know, your being at loose ends right now is pretty handy for the League," Clark said, eyes starting to twinkle. "We'd been intending to see if we could borrow your computer services for a few months anyway. Could you stand a trip far far away from Gotham and Metropolis?"

Dick looked up. "What kind of computer work? You don't mean..." he raised his eyes and looked skyward.

"Yes, that's the idea. The computers in the Watchtower need some software upgrades and new security systems developed. You know that the political situation is getting dicey?"

Dick nodded his head. Since his first conversation with Batman, the situation with the T'Shal had been deteriorating. Their initial prison camps had expanded to take over half the African sub-continent.

"Well, we need to lock down our systems from hackers, human or alien. The possibility of a war is growing by the day. Green Lantern and and J'on have already had a look at the systems and given their input, but we need a very good programmer/hacker to bolster our firewall. We also need to upgrade our encryption. I understand from Bruce that you designed his systems," Clark's face cracked a smile. "When you were ten years old."

Dick grinned broadly. "And I've upgraded them every year since. Sure! I'd love to help."

"We expect the project to take about four months and we will provide food and lodging as well as a small stipend. That'll give you time to find your feet. How about it?" Clark asked.

"Sure! When do I start?" Dick exclaimed.

"Right now, if you want," Clark said. "Will you be using your new name?"

"I...don't have a costume or anything," Dick said. "I'll wear civvies and sunglasses or a mask until I have a uniform but yeah, I'm using the new name." He stopped. "What about the Team? Batman's in charge of the Team; I guess that means I'm fired.'

Superman frowned and looked as angry as Dick had ever seen him. "That isn't Batman's decision. You are still Team Leader until the League says you're not. But I don't think it would be a bad thing for you to take a different League assignment for a while. And we certainly need you. We can recall Kaldur if necessary."

"All right, I'm in, then," Dick replied and held out his hand.

"Okay, Nightwing, you're hired. Let's get going," Clark shook his hand and led him out the door. Dick had rarely used the Metropolis zeta tube but smiled to see that, like the Gotham one, it was hidden in an old, broken down phone booth. He had no idea why the League was so fixated on phone booths, which were outdated anyway, but he guessed he could live with it.

* * *

The Watchtower was bigger than he'd imagined it, with huge cathedral windows and...a garden with birds? Okaaay... Superman led him to the huge banks of computers. "Here's where you'll be working, Nightwing. Hawkman is on duty right now. He can help you with passwords and basic information. The manuals are here...We've kept paper copies as well as electronic," he smiled. "Some of us are old-fashioned that way."

Dick took the stack Superman handed him, eyeing the computer monitor and keyboard, his fingers itching to try it out. "Oh, I wouldn't be too worried, Superman. I can hack into anything you got."

Superman's eyebrow raised. "I don't doubt it. I'm only surprised you never hacked into these computers before." He paused, seeing the expression on Dick's face. "Oh. Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

...

Dick took the stack Superman handed him, eyeing the computer monitor and keyboard, his fingers itching to try it out. "Oh, I wouldn't be too worried, Superman. I can hack into anything you got."

Superman's eyebrow raised. "I don't doubt it. I'm only surprised you never hacked into these computers before." He paused, seeing the expression on Dick's face. "Oh. Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

...

Dick took the stack Superman handed him, eyeing the computer monitor and keyboard, his fingers itching to try it out. "Oh, I wouldn't be too worried, Superman. I can hack into anything you got."

Superman's eyebrow raised. "I don't doubt it. I'm only surprised you never hacked into these computers before." He paused, seeing the expression on Dick's face. "Oh. Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

... **[FIRE!** Flames tearing at his body...dissolving him into nothing...**PAIN**...like nothing he'd felt before...couldn't think...couldn't think...remember...memories...must...remember...memories and emotion...gotta remember...M'gann said...Voices booming in his head..**"WHAT IS THE ENCRYPTION?" "SHOW US THE CODES!" 'SHOW US THE COMPUTERS!"]**

At the staging area, Batman gasped and grabbed his head. M'gann doubled over, crying out and would have fallen but Superboy caught her. She cut off the telepathic link and slowly the pain died away along with the voices.

"What...what was that?" Batman demanded, afraid of the answer.

"The feed from Nightwing," M'gann replied. "He's faltered. They've broken through."**  
**


	8. Breaking

CHAPTER 8

Nightwing's eyes opened and he writhed fruitlessly against the organic matter of the machine holding him down. Fire ran up his nerve endings while the booming questions rang in his head, so loudly that he couldn't form coherent thoughts. Gasping for air, he fought back the mental pictures of the software designs he'd created although they flashed more and more brightly through his mind's eye. Had to focus somehow or die trying.

**Painnn**...memories...**Burning..**.remember...focus...focus...**Pain**...

Batman said focus and the pain goes away...remember the mind techniques...He shut his eyes hard and tried to slow his breathing...pain...fire...

He was eleven years old, still wearing short pants and pixie boots. One of the Joker's henchmen had got him with a knife to his arm. He'd panicked at all the blood; the combination of pain and blood had made him near hysterical. Batman sat him down and began to wrap his arm with gauze, but spoke to him in a soothing voice, reminding him to relax and let the pain and fear float away. Like a cloud in a blue sky, **Painnn**...would float and dissipate until...there...was...nothing...left...Breathe deeply and focus...inner focus...He'd had compound fractures since then and used this technique so he could keep moving. It works...have faith...When will they get here? Breathe...**hurts**...focus...they're not coming...M'gann said they'd listen even if they can't communicate...Could you _please_ hurry up, M'gann? I'm running out of memories, 'kay?...running out of hope...

Remember after...after...after the Watchtower...no...not computers...gone...Afterward, Superman had pulled him aside to discuss the team.

"The T'Shal invaded Rhelasia, both North and South this morning," Superman said solemnly. "We're at war. Refugees are flooding out of Rhelasia as well as Pan-Africa and Bialya. Those who haven't fled, are virtual slaves to the aliens."

"But they were setting up prisons..." Nightwing asked. "War..."

"We aren't sure there ever were any prisoners," Superman said bitterly. "We think they're settlers. They intend to stay and they intend to expand. They've already seized three neighboring countries and by all accounts they're building up an invading force. That's where the Team comes in.

"How can we help?" Nightwing leaned forward in his chair.

"We need saboteurs and spies. People we can send in-country to watch the T'Shal. The remaining humans have formed a resistance group and we want to assist. Your team has been to Bialya before, with M'gann's help you can bridge the language barrier. We need as much information as possible to prepare..." Superman said.

Nightwing frowned, arms folded over his chest. "What does Batman say about this? Four months ago, he wanted me removed at the Team leader, if not fired from the team itself."

Superman sighed. "Nightwing, I'd be lying if I said that Batman approves of this. In fact, he's been strenuous in his efforts to keep you off this clandestine team. No," he raised a hand at Nightwing's angry rejoinder. "I honestly don't think he's criticizing your abilities."

"Then why doesn't he think I can handle the job?" Nightwing asked bitterly. "Dammit, Clark, I survived Two-Face. I survived the Joker. What more does he expect!"

"Nightwing, Bruce worries about you. He's an overprotective parent. It's just the way he is." Superman tried to explain.

"Well, tell him to get over it!" Nightwing growled. "I'm a legal adult. I can make my own decisions and I'm on this team. I've been doing covert since I was 13 years old, I think I can handle this. I accept the position and I'm sure that the Team will be happy to take any mission assignments you have."

* * *

Ah, the joy of those early missions. Grinning at the poor aliens as they snuck in weapons and food to the captive humans. On one trip they travelled through Bialya as a rundown, tattered circus, gathering intel as they went. Wolf had been the sole animal in the troupe but Wolf had deigned to do tricks. The sight of a giant white wolf balancing precariously on Sphere still made him smile. Artemis shot apples off Superboy's head, while M'gann was the fortune-telling gypsy, incidentally passing on messages from the Resistance. The sheer danger of it made Dick feel alive. Best of all, he finally had a costume for Nightwing. Alfred had created a blue and black jumpsuit similar to John Grayson's circus costume. The first night he wore it to walk their modest tightrope had made him proud.

* * *

::Raising the power level on the Machine has improved its performance. We are getting closer, Honored Questioner.::

::That is true. Hopefully we will gain the information needed before this (untranslatable) primitive's brain becomes too damaged to be useful. I must admit, I do find their appearance repulsive. They remind me too much of the maggots on (untranslatable location)::

::What do you suppose the movements of its facial features mean? I saw it leaking moisture from its eyes last night. Do you suppose that the primitives feel emotion like we do, Honored Questioner?.::

::Unimportant. It's only a primitive. It can't have feelings like we do. Raise the power level another three notches. When you have the required information, kill it. The scientists wish to dissect it. .::

* * *

"M'gann, restore contact if you can," Batman said urgently. "I need to know what's happening. Superboy, you'll pilot the bio-ship. Drop us off as close to the building as you can without being detected. Kid Flash and Artemis, you'll do recon and find us a safe escape route. M'gann, can you track Nightwing telepathically?"

M'gann, eyes blazing, nodded. "I have restored telepathic communication within the team. I've found Nightwing and have a line to his thoughts...now."

Batman felt a despairing sense of intent pouring into the back of his mind. Nightwing expected to die, but he was going to hang on as long as he could. He was focused again, but weakening. "We need to move out," he said to the team. They boarded the ship and were soon on their way.

Artemis, monitoring sensors, looked up. "I'm reading shielded aircraft lifting off. I think they're going to attack our base...I'm trying to call base to warn them, but not getting through. Communications are jammed."

"Keep trying," said Batman. "M'gann, can you get through to J'onn?"

"Already have. They're aware of the problem and warn that we might get caught in the crossfire. The enemy base is a prime target, putting us at risk of friendly fire. Superman wants to know, and I quote, 'Have you come to your senses yet?'" M'gann looked up at him with an impish grin.

Batman grinned back wolfishly. "Tell him 'no' and we'll relay strategic info as we discover it. Superboy, get us in as close as you can manage."

"Will do," Superboy said. "This kryptonite field is...hard to stand. The bio-ship has some shielding and it helps, but Superman would never make it."

"Since it looks like we may be under fire, I want one thing understood," Batman made eye-contact with each team member. "We may reach a point where it is vital that you obey my orders. I might ask you to retreat and leave me behind, or to destroy the building with me in it. If I give such an order, you are to obey without question. Understood?"

The team members traded uneasy glances. "You mean, even if we know you're going to die, we're supposed to leave you here?" Superboy finally asked.

"I...I think I know the answer to that question," Wally said uncomfortably. "Robin told me about it once. You made him promise to obey...'without hesitation', even if it meant watching you die. And he told me he gave his word. I...uh...I can't do any less than Rob did. You've got my word."

"I don't like it. But okay, I'll do it," said Artemis.

M'gann just nodded. Superboy shrugged, "Okay, I guess we gotta trust that you know what you're doing, Batman."

A quarter mile from the building, Superboy landed the camouflaged ship. "This is as close as I can stand," he said. "Too much kryptonite in those walls."

"This way," Batman said quietly and led the team into the sparse underbrush. The Atom had done a thorough reconnaissance when the aliens moved in, so the League had a plan of the headquarters complex of buildings. Details had been added by the various human agents and league members invited to tour the facility in more peaceful times. Batman didn't expect his map to be completely accurate. Undoubtedly there were areas not disclosed to others, but this gave him a path into the place.

"M'gann, how are we doing?" Batman asked silently.

"I'm concealing us from telepathic monitors," she replied. "They seem to be depending more on mind-power than on technology."

"That's consistent with their past methods," Artemis commented, slipping soundlessly through the underbrush. "I'm not finding any perimeter alarms. At least, nothing I can't disable. Be careful and watch for traps like the one that got Nightwing."

Batman spotted a sparkle of metal. "Stop!" he shouted mentally. The team froze in place. "Do you hear that?" Straining their ears over the sound of distant explosions and aircraft engines, they heard a soft humming. Wally picked up a branch and held it ahead of Batman's path, scraping away at the underbrush. It was a huge, spindly flower of metal with thin spines in between the 'petals'.

"What is that?" Batman asked. Wally pushed the stick into the 'flower's middle and they all watched as the petals and spines closed up around it. The spines curled up to the middle, trapping the stick, while the petals closed into a ball with only inches between each petal. Nobody caught in it could escape easily.

Batman examined it, crouching down to peer into the trap. "Nightwing got caught in one of those?" Batman crouched down to peer into the trap. "Was he injured? Those spines look sharp."

"One of the spines pierced his leg, but we don't know how serious the injury was," M'gann said. "We were too busy trying to get him out. And then the guards came."

Batman suddenly stood up, listening. "I think the trap is alarmed. That's why they came running so fast when Nightwing was caught." He cast a hard glance at Wally and said, "Come on!"

He led them into dense underbrush to where a small stream full of putrid water flowed.

"Phew...this smells like a sewer," Wally cried into their minds.

"Everyone has to dispose of waste," Batman replied. "Okay, into the pipe. This will get us inside. Put on your respirators." He led them into a tall, equally foul smelling pipe. They walked through six inches of nameless effluvia until they came to a grating. Batman reached into his belt pouch and removed a tiny hand-laser.

"Too bad we couldn't bring Superboy," Artemis said. "He could just pull this out."

"Maybe not," Batman pulled on the grate and it separated in a sparkle of green sparks. "This is almost pure kryptonite. We're getting some radiation from it for as long as we're inside here."

"Just part of the fun," Artemis said quietly and followed Batman through the grate. Wally took the rear and stood guard until M'gann was in.

"Hope their sense of smell isn't too acute. I bet we reek to high heaven," Wally commented as they reached the upper floor. "M'gann, you're awfully quiet..."

M'gann shot him a pained smile. "Sorry, I'm concentrating on Nightwing. He says he doesn't know how long he can last. We need to go that way," she pointed to the left hand fork of the hallway.

The walls were constructed of no material Batman had ever seen. It felt like papier mache under the fingers, and gave slightly to the touch but he couldn't scrape it. It felt almost like a biological material, like some wasps nests he'd handled as a child. The walls themselves were a dark ochre color with bits of green, which he assumed was the kryptonite. Similarly, the halls had a greenish light to them and looked more like tunnels than the squared off hallways of human construction.

* * *

Nightwing could only see computer screens and himself typing in numbers...letters...symbols...no...no...focus..turn away from the screens. Every time he turned away from the screens he saw them again...and again...Communication codes stuttered in front of his eyes...Key and response and counter-response...no..no..no...

::It's working. Five notches. Increase the gain five notches.::

::But, Honored Questioner, that will kill the primitive outright or will destroy his brain.::

::The primitive is useless in any case. Five notches, I said.::

Nightwing stared into the yellow light of the machine as he fought the restraints. The Watchtower blurred in his memory, then became nothing but numbers and symbols. He fought, throwing his saddest memories at the machine. His parents fell from the trapeze a hundred times, landing bloodied in the sawdust below. He stood, a nine year old boy, fifty feet up on a tiny platform watching the crowd gather and knowing that his life had changed forever.

The next worst memory...Batman kicking him out. Bruce rejecting him as a partner. Not good enough. Not good enough. Never good enough...not working..not working...this isn't working...numbers i see numbers..codes..symbols...not good enough...i was never good enough...nooooooooooo!

Nightwing's eyes rolled back into his head as the first convulsion hit. Then the second, body battering against the unbreakable substance of the machine.

M'gann stopped, turning pale. Batman, also sensing it, met her eyes. "They've broken him," he said softly. "Which way? Hurry!"


	9. Rescue

CHAPTER 9

"This way, I think," M'gann directed and pulled at Batman's arm. The team pounded down the strange hallway to the sound of explosions coming from outside. Batman assumed that they had evacuated the building when the bombing started, or maybe they were all manning offensive batteries.

At the end of the hall they found a round door, made of the same substance as the walls. Wally rushed ahead and put his hand against the center. The door slid open with a pop. He ran inside the room and came to an abrupt halt, freezing in place.

Inside were two of the T'Shal clustered near a long tube of mottled yellow, green and beige organic matter, similar to the constituents of the wall. The organic matter covered all of Nightwing except his head, neck and chest. Where Nightwing's feet should be crouched a huge organic growth, like nothing so much as a giant repellant fungus. . A tentacle from the machine sat in front of its prisoner's face, shooting a pulsating beam of yellow light into his eyes. The two aliens stood beside the Machine, watching Nightwing intently, then looked up in surprise at the invaders.

Batman's bolo was in his hand before he thought and he'd thrown it at the first T'Shal, while Artemis fired a foam arrow at the second.

"Wally! Wally, Artemis, make sure the aliens can't move. M'gann, can you shut the Machine down?" Batman demanded, moving rapidly toward Nightwing.

"I'll try," she said and darted over to the Machine. She focused her gaze on it, her eyes glowing even more brightly.

Batman looked down at his son's face; Nightwing's eyes had rolled back into his head and he trembled violently, caught beneath the pounding of the beaming yellow light. Grasping the machine's tentacle with both hands, Batman's muscles bulged as he forced the powerful light away from Nightwing's face. He was joined by Wally and then Artemis, bending it until it broke away and the light went out. The machine let out a high pitched squeal when the tentacle broke off, then stilled. M'gann stood away from it as a third alien detached from the machine and slid to the floor, dazed. She tied it, then focused angry glowing eyes on it. After a long minute, she said, "It can't release him. The machine is no longer alive. We'll have to cut Nightwing out."

Batman bent over his son and felt for the pulse at Nightwing's throat. The boy's face was drawn and pale and he was sweating profusely, his heart beating unevenly. "Nightwing," he said softly. "Can you hear me?" he moved his hand up to cup his son's cheek. "Nightwing?" he said, more loudly. "M'gann?" he asked as Artemis and Wally clustered around Nightwing next to him.

He turned and saw M'gann, her face cold, standing in front of one of the aliens, her eyes glowing red. The alien's face was slack, it's eyes frightened.

"M'gann, what are you doing?" Artemis asked nervously.

"Wiping their memories of any knowledge they took from Nightwing. They're alive but will remember nothing that they tortured from him." She pulled her knife and moved in next to Wally, who was working to cut Nightwing free.

Batman's attention returned to his former partner. Nightwing's eyes had closed and the trembling had stopped. He was perfectly still, his face peaceful...Batman's eyes widened and he felt for a pulse.

"Damn.." he said under his breath and began chest compressions, then tilted Nightwing's head back for rescue breathing. Peripherally, he was aware that Wally, Artemis and M'gann were frantically trying to chop Nightwing out of the Machine, without much success. Dick was all but swallowed up by the thing and they didn't have much time.

"Batman, I'll take over," Artemis rested a hand on his shoulder and moved in. "I've had the training. I know how."

Batman backed away and realized that his own hands were shaking. He pulled out his own knife and joined in Wally and M'gann's efforts. Batman's was a diamond blade, the same composition as a surgeon's scalpel. Sawing at it, the material covering his son didn't cut. He noted that neither M'gann nor Wally had made a dent at all. He stopped when he heard the first explosion overhead. It sounded close. They could hear the sound of other parts of the building falling in with a roar.

Artemis was still working on Dick, but Wally looked up at the ceiling with dismay. "Do you think it's ours?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Batman said, sawing with his knife. "They warned us."

A second, then a third explosion hit almost on top of them. Dust and particles of the ceiling filtered down. Artemis stopped her CPR, hand on Nightwing's neck. "Pulse is back and he's breathing." She looked over at Batman for direction.

An explosion directly overhead rocked the building and part of the ceiling came down. Batman threw himself over Nightwing's body to protect him from falling chunks of 'masonry', while his team flattened themselves against the walls. Two more explosions followed in rapid succession, bringing down half the ceiling and partially covering the door. Batman looked around the room grimly. "I don't think this place will last much longer. You three, get out to the bio-ship. Nightwing and I will meet you there in half an hour. If we don't, go back to the rendezvous point and wait for us."

"No! We'll stay and help you with Nightwing," Artemis said. "We can't abandon him twice." Wally and M'gann cast pleading glances at him, but Batman shook his head.

"I don't know how long it will take to free him and I won't risk your lives. Go! That's an order!" He glared at them. "Remember you promised."

As the three slipped unwillingly out the door, M'gann paused. "Batman, I read in the T'Shal minds that this place was evacuated through a tunnel. It leads a distance away from this building. As soon as the T'Shal attacked, personnel were sent through it and into the countryside. They're going to gather in central Bialya at another headquarters. If you can't get out any other way, try the tunnel. It's reinforced with their toughest building materials, the same that the machine is constructed of." She sent him a hazy visual showing the tunnel's location.

"I'll remember that. Thanks, M'gann. Now go!" Batman cried and turned back to Nightwing.

Batman tried his mini-laser, carefully focusing the beam horizontally along the tabletop that held his son. He hadn't used it before, afraid of causing more injury by burning him. No good. He dialed the power to maximum as another explosion brought down larger chunks of debris. He could see into the building's upper floor now. The laser had softened the material but didn't separate it.

Finally, he reached to the pouch at the back of his belt for the vial of acid. The last time he'd used it, he'd been tied up by Two-Face and was desperately trying to save Robin's life. Times hadn't changed much, he reflected. He dripped a thin line across the coating and was glad to see smoke curl up from wherever it touched.

Another explosion, then a second and a beam settled across the doorway. If they didn't get out soon, they'd be buried with the building. And the aliens. Batman spared a glance for the silent T'Shal who stared at him balefully. He glared back and focused on applying the acid. Once the covering was pierced, he was able to rip it away from Nightwing's body like a heavy blanket. The Machine had dissolved Nightwing's uniform; he'd need some clothing if they were going to make it out of here.

"Dick?" Batman said softly. "Dick...wake up, son.." He tapped at Nightwing's cheek but his son's eyes remained closed. But he was still breathing, thank god. Batman supported Nightwing's shoulders with an arm and moved him into a sitting position. Removing his cape, he wrapped it around his boy tightly. He lifted Nightwing over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"You don't deserve this, but I'll give you a chance at escape," Batman said coldly and stabbed the knife into the floor next to the alien that he had tied. Deliberately, he moved himself and his son through the doorway and into the hallway.

More bombs were falling and the building couldn't last much longer. No longer caring if they were seen, Batman recalled the location M'gann had given. As they started down the hall, the polarized lenses in his mask showed small sparkling marks left on the wall. They were tiny bats. The team had left him a guide

They got to the hatch that M'gann had shown him, gaping open after the last alien had left. There were stairs going down about a hundred feet; a safe distance, he hoped, from the bombing. The area was lit with dim green lights, just enough to see by. Closing the hatch behind him, Batman hauled Nightwing down into the tunnel.

* * *

On the bio-ship, the team was having its own troubles. They had waited the required 30 minutes, then extended it to 45.

"They're not coming," Superboy said morosely.

"They're coming," Artemis disagreed. "We have to wait for them."

"Batman told us to leave after 30," Wally said. When the other three turned on him with angry looks, he added. "They're probably in the tunnel. It'll take them a while to surface and anyway, we're supposed to meet up in the cave. We should go there."

"Well, M'gann, what's your vote?" Artemis demanded. "Go or stay?"

"I agree with Wally," M'gann said slowly. "I think that they'll meet us at the cave if they can. It's dangerous out here, even camouflaged. We should go."

"All right, we go to the rendezvous point," Superboy said and took the bio-ship into the sky.

Once airborne, they immediately discovered that they'd been spotted. "Bogie on our tail," said Artemis crisply. "It's a T'Shal ship."

"Evasive action," M'gann instructed Superboy, who began putting the ship through a variety of maneuvers to throw them off. First one energy beam, then another one grazed the ship, leaving a burning smell inside. M'gann pursed her lips. "The ship is crying; she's hurt...What's our position?"

"Fifty kilometers north of the cave," said Wally. "But the T'Shal defensive line is firming up between us and it." He looked up, face stricken. "We can't get through. They'd blow us up."

"We can't just leave them!" Artemis shouted. "There has to be some way to get through."

"We don't have the weaponry to cut a hole in their line," Superboy's voice was rough. "This isn't a battle cruiser, it's a stealth scout."

Wally began, "Maybe I could run to them and..and..."

"And carry them both out? At superspeed?" M'gann finished. "I'm sorry, Wally. But we all know what we have to do. Superman..."

"Oh man, I've never seen Superman as pissed off as he's gonna get with this news," Superboy changed the ship's course. "I hope Wonder Woman is there to calm him down."

"And activate Batman's contingency plans," Artemis added.

* * *

Night had fallen when Batman and Nightwing made it into the cave. During the trip through the tunnel, Nightwing had remained unconscious, so Batman simply carried him. There had been no change since then, and no sound at all from Nightwing. It was uncanny, Batman decided. Dick had always been a restless sleeper, but he was profoundly still and silent in his arms. Batman kept stopping to check his pulse to make sure he hadn't died. The shiny batarang he held to Nightwing's lips misted up every time he tested it. His heart still beat and he breathed, but not much else.

He wasn't surprised that there was no bio-ship waiting for them. The war with the T'Shal had always been unpredictable and he suspected that they were now far behind enemy lines. Besides, they'd taken so long to get out of the building and travel to the cave, it was unreasonable to expect the Team to wait it out. He opened the hidden door to the cave and carefully went inside, carrying Nightwing in, settling him onto an unrolled sleeping bag. He lit a glow-stick and found the area unchanged from his prior visit.

Replacing the foliage that hid the door, he closed and barred it. Pulling his cowl back, he ran an arm over his sweaty forehead. He found the lantern Nightwing's people had left inside the cave and lit it, then checked the available supplies. They might have to live here for a few days until things calmed down outside.

More sleeping bags, good. MRE's and bottled water and a few boxes holding local clothing for disguise. First aid kit. Good. Now to see how Nightwing was doing.

Returning to his son, he unwrapped the cape and replaced it with an army blanket from the supplies. Checking vitals, his blood pressure was low, but pulse was steady. Other injuries...M'gann was right. Nightwing's left calf had been pierced by the trap, a wound which was now infected and he didn't like the look of it. Wishing he had Leslie with him, or Alfred, he opened the first aid kit and did the best he could with the anti-bacterial spray and gauze he found inside.

His head jerked upright when he heard the sound of energy weapons-fire from outside. He doused the lantern and sat next to Nightwing, waiting for the battle to end.


	10. The Cave

CHAPTER 10

Bruce woke up to silence. However the battle had ended, it was over now. The glow stick was dying out, but it still cast a little light. How long had he slept? He checked his watch...six hours. He got up and lit the lantern again. Dick was quiet and very still. As he had been doing since rescuing his son, he checked for pulse and respiration. Still alive. He laid a hand on the boy's forehead; hot and dry. He went to the doorway and carefully opened it a crack. The area down the hillside was covered with patches of char. Where it had been hit with energy weapons, small fires had started and then died out. The land was empty.

He closed the door and reached for his communicator but got only static. The jammers were still up. If he scouted cross-country, he didn't know what he'd find. And in any case, he couldn't leave Dick here alone. If the bio-ship made it to base, the League knew where they were and would find a way to get them out. Best to wait here for rescue, at least for now.

He pulled off his cowl and gauntlets and set them next to the cape, running a hand through his hair. Among the supplies was a small propane camp stove and some cooking implements. Mentally, he applauded whoever had stocked this place; probably Dick. He heated water and made instant soup, then rummaged out a protein bar. He sat down next to Dick, vaguely hoping that the smell of food might awaken him.

"Dick...can you hear me?" Bruce wafted some of the steam near Dick's nose. "Come on, buddy, you always liked this stuff, God knows why..." Nothing.

He ate the protein bar slowly, wondering what he could do. He knew very little about the Machine, except that it had been banned intergalactically. This was probably why. There had to be some way to reach him.

* * *

The darkness was restful. The yellow light was gone and he'd been at peace with its passing. Bits of memory dogged him but he ignored it. Remembering was too painful and he somehow knew he'd been in a lot of pain lately. He heard a voice calling someone named 'Dick'. He was momentarily troubled, then let it pass over him and faded back into the comforting dark.

* * *

Batman leaned back, rethinking his strategy. "Nightwing! Wake up!" He rested a hand on Dick's shoulder, shaking it gently. "Nightwing!" Scanning Dick's face closely, he could see they boy's eyes moving beneath closed lids. Something was happening...maybe he was dreaming..?

* * *

Nightwing strode down the hall in the Watchtower from the workout room, heading for his quarters. He was dressed in a loose jumpsuit but wore his mask. All of Batman's early lessons in security had stuck and he had found no reason to abandon them at this point. Abruptly, he stopped, faced with the one person he didn't want to see.

"Batman," Nightwing said neutrally. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"A war just started," Batman replied mildly. "They've asked for my services as one of the League's generals. But I'm glad I found you. There's something I want to discuss with you."

"All right," Nightwing said. "There's a conference room a couple doors down..."

"Yes, I'm familiar with it," Batman said easily and led the way to the door, opening it for Nightwing. Of course the old b******d knew all the nooks and crannies up here. He helped form the League when I was in pixie boots and short pants...

Nightwing followed his former mentor into the room and sat down across the table from him. "And just is it you wanted?" He had to remind himself not to grit his teeth.

"I understand that Superman wants to use the Team for sabotage and guerilla warfare and you to continue on as leader..." Batman leaned forward, hands flat on the table.

"Yes, and I understand that you've already rendered your objections," Nightwing responded, not taking his eyes from his mentor. "That's already been overruled by authorities greater than yours."

"Since they're putting me in a command position as chief strategist in this war," Batman said evenly. "I'll need trained staff. You know almost as much as I do and have command experience as well. I'd like you to be my head of staff. You've been my lieutenant for most of your life."

Nightwing closed his eyes against the rage bubbling up inside him. "Let me get this straight," he said through clenched jaw. "You couldn't get me removed from my role as a saboteur and now you're offering me a _**desk job? **_Who the **Hell** do you think you are?" Nightwing realized that he was standing with fists clenched.

Batman stood slowly. "I'm your father and I'm worried about you," he replied quietly.

"All right, _Dad_, let me ask you a couple of questions," Dick raged. "Do you think, after all the years you trained me exhaustively, that I am incompetent? I really need to know."

"No. I don't think you're incompetent. You were an excellent and talented partner," Batman replied.

"Then, this concern you have for my welfare really does spring from what happened when you were a kid," Dick said, using the words like weapons. "When you watched your family die in front of you. I'm not going to die, Bruce, much less do it in front of you. It's okay to let me take risks; you trained me for them. Hell, I almost died a couple times as Robin and you didn't make this kind of fuss."

Batman was silent.

"This all started when the Joker shot me, didn't it? He used a gun and almost took me out of your life, just like your parents. Bruce, I'm all grown up now. If I'm 'reckless', it's because I know the odds and know what I'm doing. You tossed me out of the nest yourself. How can you object now if this bird wants to try his own wings?" Dick fell silent, panting, arms folded over chest. He softened his voice. "Bruce, I'm not your responsibility anymore. Let me go."

Batman pulled his cowl down off his head. Facing him was a very tired Bruce Wayne, looking ten years older than his actual age. He smiled crookedly. "When I was younger, a friend of mine had a child and we were joking with him that he'd have to worry about the kid until he was eighteen. An older friend, one who had adult children, broke in. He said that you never stop worrying about a child, no matter what age they are. Until you die, you worry about your children."

* * *

"Son...son, wake up...Come back..." Dick heard Bruce's voice, tireder than it had been that day, calling. The darkness didn't seem so comfortable anymore, not if Bruce needed him.

Bruce was near despair, no matter how much he reminded himself that these things took time. One more try. "Son...son, wake up...Come back..."

The closed eyes stopped moving. Then slowly, slowly the lids lifted and dazed blue eyes looked blearily up at him. They focused on his face and Dick smiled.

"Dick," he breathed. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

His son's mouth opened and lips moved, but no sound came out. Dick frowned and a frustrated look crossed his face. He pulled his hand from Bruce's grasp, weakly lifted them both and began to sign. "_They did something to my throat_..." he shuddered, remembering. _"Can't talk. Or make noise. Hard..to breathe sometimes."_ His eyes flashed around him. _"Are we in batcave?"_

"No," Bruce said with a half-smile. "Your team and I rescued you. We got separated and I got you to your staging area, your cave."

_"I see,"_ Dick closed tired eyes. _"When'll we be leaving?"_ His eyes opened suddenly. _"The codes...last thing I remember...they were taking numbers..and symbols from my mind. I thought that I was in the Watchtower and they were..."_ His eyes closed and, first breathing fast, he began to gasp for air, terror on his face.

"It's okay, you're safe now," Bruce said soothingly, and slid behind him to hold him upright. "Breathe. Just focus on your breathing. I don't think they got much; M'gann mind-touched the ones who were interrogating you. We planned for her to destroy any information that they had gotten. And I am certain that the Machine was dead when we left," he added with grim satisfaction.

_"Machine...dead?"_ Dick looked hopefully at his father. _"You're __**sure?**__"_

"I helped kill it myself," Bruce said softly. "It's gone. Now, you've got a leg wound and you'll need some time to recover from the T'Shal. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

_"Thirsty,"_ Dick said. _"Some water would be good."_

Bruce got the bottle of water and helped him sit up. As soon as he began to tip some into Dick's mouth, his son started coughing and choking. He took the water away, puzzled and worried, and laid him back down. "Can't you swallow?"

Still breathing heavily, Dick signed back, "_Don't think I can. Or not much. What do we do now?"_

"I'll think of something. You rest for now and sleep if you can. We'll figure this out," Bruce said in as comforting a tone as he could manage.

Dick gave him an eye-roll that said, "Yeah, right." But he obediently closed his eyes.

Bruce mentally inventoried the contents of the first aid kit. Dick could live without food for a week but water was vital. He could go maybe three days without it. The kit was basic and didn't have the tools for an IV or naso-gastric tube. He tried the communicator again; still jammed. Still trapped here.

A few hours later, he saw that Dick was thrashing and struggling in his sleep. He'd always been prone to nightmares and Bruce wouldn't blame him if he had them now. He laid a hand on his son's arm. "Dick, wake up. It's okay, you're safe now. You're safe..."

Dick's eyes opened and he looked around wildly. When he saw Bruce's face he relaxed a bit and his expression grew less frantic. He tried to speak, remembered, then spoke with his hands. "_Sorry. Nightmare._"

"That's okay, Dick," Bruce smiled. "What are a couple of nightmares between us. I have 'em too." He picked up the water bottle. "You're probably pretty dehydrated by now. I have an idea. Want to try again?"

Dick looked at the bottle warily. "I'm really thirsty but what's your idea?"

"Just this," Bruce got a sleeping bag, still rolled up and tucked it behind Dick's back, propping him up. "Do you remember when Ace was still alive?"

Dick grinned. _"You mean, Ace the Bat-Hound? Of course I remember my dog."_

"Well, do you remember when Joker gassed him and we had to give him those pills? He had trouble swallowing them..."Bruce settled down next to Dick and held up the water bottle.

_"You're going to treat me like we did the dog?" _

Batman smiled at Dick's dismay. "It worked, didn't it? You need fluids and food; we can't hike out of here until you're up to speed."

_"Okay, okay, give me the water bottle,_" Dick said. _"And I'll do it myself."_ He uncapped it, took a tiny sip and tried to swallow. Bruce could see that he was having trouble getting the water down, but held his peace while his son began to stroke at his throat to force it down. Dick opened his eyes, held a thumb up and tried again.

By the time he'd managed to down the rest of the bottle, Bruce had the soup reheated. "Okay, you work on this while I check your leg," he said and handed Dick the tin cup with a small quantity of soup in it.

Bruce moved the blanket aside and was about to change the dressing when he heard the sound of the cup hitting the stone floor of the cave. Dick was sitting bolt upright, his face white with terror.

"What is it?" Batman asked.

_"The T'Shal, they're outside. I don't know how but...I can sense them. They're outside the cave, looking for us,"_ Dick said.

JLA HEADQUARTERS  
PAN-AFRICA

CONFERENCE ROOM B

"So, the T'Shal didn't get our codes?" Wonder Woman asked the assembled team.

"No. I took it from their minds," M'gann said confidently. "They had only just broken through and had only partial knowledge. Nightwing fought... very hard."

"What was his condition when you left him and Batman?" Wonder Woman asked, worry in her eyes. M'gann was reminded that Robin had been the first sidekick and the adopted nephew of the entire League for years.

"When we broke that damned Machine, he just faded and died," Wally said, tensely. "Bats started CPR and Artemis took over. She brought him back," he said, smiling over at Artemis. "He was unconscious the entire time we were there."

"I couldn't reach his mind," M'gann said. "It could mean that he was shielding enough to keep me out, or that he has brain damage of some kind. As we arrived, he was seizing. That stopped when the Machine was disabled."

"And you believe that Batman is waiting at the rendezvous point?" Wonder Woman asked.

"If it's possible for them to get there, he's there," Wally answered. "M'gann told Batman about the tunnel and it ends up about a quarter mile from the hill where the cave is. And if Batman's there, Nightwing is too."

"Have you had any luck getting through to them?" Superboy tilted his chair upright and took his feet off the desk.

"None so far," Wonder Woman admitted, watching Superboy with amusement. "The T'Shal jammers are still working. The battle lines have moved away from that area, although it's still in enemy territory it has been decided that we'll accede to your request and send you in to recover them."

All four team members sat upright, faces wreathed in grins.


	11. Pursuit

CHAPTER 11

Bruce and Dick waited in silence, hearing engine noises and strange voices from outside their cave. Finally, the noises died back and all was quiet again.

"Do you sense anything?" Bruce asked quietly.

Dick shook his head and signed, _"No, I think they're gone. But they'll be back."_ His eyes took on a frightened look. _"Bruce, I think that if I can sense them, they're sensing me too. The Machine did something to my mind..."_

"It might be enhancing some latent psychic ability," Bruce turned the lantern back on. "I know that J'onn and M'gann trained the team on how to block telepathy if necessary. You demonstrated that with the Machine. Try to keep your shields up as much as you can."

_"Already doing that,"_ Dick admitted. _"But I'm having trouble concentrating."_

Bruce handed him a bottle of water. "Do the best you can. And try to get as much water and nutrition as you can. We might have to run for it."

Dick nodded and started working on the water, coughing and choking with almost every swallow. He was a liability for Bruce. Those aliens were going to come back; they'd been drawn here by his mind, he knew it. Between his lameness and general dizziness, he'd never be able to dodge anyone chasing them. Maybe he should just offer to stay here and let Bruce go to get help. He glanced over to the other corner of the cave where Bruce was putting together packs. Bruce looked up and caught his eyes.

"No," he said, blue eyes showing the inscrutable Bat. "You are not staying here to draw their fire. I didn't accept that when you were Robin and I'm not accepting it now. We'll go together."

Dick closed his eyes. Oh yeah, that's right. In his worry about his newly discovered telepathy, he'd forgotten about Bruce's. Okay, Boss, I just follow orders around here...He kept working on the bottled water, interspersing sips of water with food taken from the MRE he'd opened.

Bruce finished with the packs and gave his son a long considering look. "We might have to leave here soon. Do you think you can stand?"

_"I can try,"_ Dick signed. _"There should be some local clothing in with the supplies as well as disguise kits."_

"Okay, let's give this a shot," Bruce squatted down and helped Dick slowly stand up. Once he was upright, he swayed precariously, so Bruce put an arm around his waist.

_"Sorry...I'm kinda dizzy,_" Dick said. _"Let me walk around a little and see how I do. Ow...!"_ He tried to reach down and rub his calf but lost his balance. Bruce steadied him.

"Let's just try walking you around the cave area first," Bruce said, not letting go. "I'll just stay here until you get your balance." Dick nodded, focusing on his walking, so Bruce continued. "So how is it that you got caught anyway?"

He knew that Bruce was just trying to distract him, but he was suddenly glad to have somebody to lean on. _"The Team and I were on a mission, first to meet with the local human resistance group to trade intel and provide weapons. We'd heard that the T'Shal were having difficulty guarding their perimeter due to high injury rates, so we thought we'd plant some explosives and shake 'em up a little." _Dick took another step on his bad leg and winced, biting his lip. _"Anyway, on our way in I managed to step into some kind of a giant metal trap. It got my leg,"_ he rubbed at the gauze on his calf. _"Wally and Artemis tried to cut the trap away, but they couldn't budge it. It had me pinned like a bug." _He glanced up at Bruce._ "Then we heard the guards coming and the battle started. Suddenly the whole area was crawling with T'Shal and I realized that we were blown. I ordered Wally and Artemis to get away asap and..." _he took a deep breath and wouldn't meet Bruce's eyes._" And I got captured."_

"I'm surprised that Clark let you out on such clandestine missions, with the valuable knowledge you have," Bruce said as they made their second circuit

_"Yeah,"_ Dick stood more firmly and shook off Bruce's grasp. _"He tried to argue that, but I pointed out to him that I was the best he had at covert operations. And besides, what was he going to do with me during the war? Put me behind a desk? He agreed that it would drive me nuts pretty quick...Nggghhh..." _He dropped to his knee when his bad leg gave out. Bruce tried to help him up again but got a glare for his trouble. _"Gotta...do...this...myself!" _Dick made his way back to his feet and stood swaying._ "Maybe I should get some clothes. And shoes."_

"You know this area," Bruce pulled the trunk of clothing over and lifted the lid. "Any suggestions about where we go?"

_"The nearest village has contacts in it who know me,_" Dick touched Bruce's arm and repeated the sentence where he could see it. _"There are colored contact lenses in the trunk; I use 'em to hide my blue eyes. We're both dark enough to pass for locals."_ Dick grinned. _"You can be the trader, Hamid, and I'll be your son, Ali, who has recently been deafened by bombs." _He frowned briefly. "If my contacts have heard about my capture, they'll be surprised that I'm even alive."

"I'm not," Bruce replied and pulled out long white hooded robes with sandals. "You're a survivor, Dick. You have been since you were eight years old."

_"Trade goods are in the other trunk and some local money. ,"_ Dick slowly began getting dressed, leaning one hand against the cave wall to keep from falling over.

Bruce opened the satchel of 'trade goods'. "Bootleg Madonna CD's? And Lady Gaga?"

Leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath, Dick smiled. _"Hey, they're our best sellers. They keep the resistance fighters' ledgers in the black and help buy our ammo."_

"We should have a meal here, first," Bruce said, watching his son and noting the barely touched MRE. "You need as much food and water as you can get down. Then we can hit the road. We'll cut you a walking stick first suitable tree we find."

_"Yes, Boss,"_Nightwing sighed and sat down to force down some flavorless Army food.

An hour later, they were as prepared as Bruce thought they could be. Both wore white hooded desert robes with long pants and sandals. Nightwing had donned his contact lenses, while Bruce would try to shield his eyes from observers. He quietly shouldered the heavier pack and handed the light one to Dick. The sun had just started to set into the cool of the evening when they left the cave and set out on the road to the nearest village.

The countryside showed evidence of the recent battle. Large swathes of land were burned off by energy weapons and still more had been erupted by missiles and bombs. There was no apparent human life in the vicinity and they saw no aliens. Dick didn't complain, but his limp got worse after the first mile. Bruce stopped at a small sapling tree and cut a sturdy walking stick. "Here, this will make it easier for you."

_"Yeah, I forgot about all the travelling you did in Asia when you were training to be Batman," _Dick said as he used the walking stick. _"You must have cut a few of these for yourself."_

Bruce flashed a smile, but said nothing.

_"Okay, what are you smiling about,"_ Dick demanded, as fast as his fingers would allow.

"I'm just reflecting that for years my partner was known for his terrible puns and awful banter that caused the crooks as much pain as any blow from my fist. Now, his voice is silenced and he can't talk. And he still can't shut up," Batman said wryly.

The next several miles passed in complete silence. Finally, Dick couldn't restrain himself any longer. _"Bruce, when I was Robin, did my jokes and banter bother you?"_

Bruce grinned. "By no means. You wore a brightly colored costume and I encouraged the banter and jokes, because you distracted the crooks while I took care of business. They were so busy watching you, they never saw me. And the bright costume helped me keep an eye on you too. I wasn't likely to misplace you or leave you behind when you were wearing colors that seared the retinas."

_"Oh."_

* * *

JLA HEADQUARTERS  
PAN-AFRICA

"Request clearance to take off from runway 6," M'gann said smoothly.

"Permission granted," said Black Canary's voice. "Bring them back. And good luck."

The ship lifted away from the distant runway and phased into its cloaked mode as it rose. M'gann set it for the familiar course to their staging area, then relaxed.

"You think they're still alive?" Superboy asked morosely. "I mean, Nightwing didn't look too good the last time we saw him."

"Have you sensed anything from him, M'gann? Since we left?" Artemis asked from her corner.

"Yeah, M'gann, I know you guys were listening before," Wally chimed in.

"No, I haven't sensed anything," M'gann replied, her face troubled.

"He's not dead, is he?" Wally asked, then ducked when Artemis aimed a slap at him. "Well, somebody has to ask..."

"I don't know," M'gann said. "That's partly what this trip is for; to find out what happened to Batman and Nightwing. And rescue them if we can."

* * *

T'SHAL

NORTHERN BIALYA HEADQUARTERS

::What is your explanation for the loss of your prisoner?::

::Honored (untranslatable title), an enemy team entered the Questioning Room, destroyed the Machine and removed him before we could complete our data collection. They also had a telepath who removed the data we had already collected. The failure was not ours, but that the guards had fled and the building was empty, but for us.::

::You were collecting data, then?::

::Yes. The prisoner had just broken and we were sifting the code information from his mind when we were interrupted and the prisoner was taken from us and the Machine murdered. We do not think that they went far; the ('soul-of-the-machine') tells us that the prisoner's mind is nearby. We have sent forces out to locate him and will finish our work when that is accomplished. The new Machine is almost complete::

::Good. We did not prevail so well in this battle. We need what the prisoner can provide. I also understand that the Research Department was promised the prisoner as a new specimen for experimentation when you are finished; they have expressed their dismay at your failure.::

::I apologize to the (collective) and will make reparations as soon as I may.::

* * *

VILLAGE OF HASHAIN

NORTHERN BIALYA

They arrived at the village in full dark. It was lit only by moonlight and starlight, a small cluster of huts with a fountain in the village center. Nightwing motioned for Batman to stop. Putting two fingers to his lips, Nightwing blew a strong whistle that pierced the quiet darkness, then waited.

People began pouring from the huts, running to Nightwing. They laughed and cheered and slapped him on the back, almost knocking him over in their glee. Finally, a tall spare man came from the building at the end of town and approached Nightwing and Batman.

"Nightwing! We had thought never to see you again. They said that you were captured by the aliens!" the man said, hugging Nightwing. Nightwing, smiling, tried to answer but no sound came out. Knowing that the other man didn't speak American Sign Language, he turned to Batman and flashed him a look.

"Nightwing was captured, but we were able to rescue him," Batman said. "I'm Batman, Nightwing's mentor."

The man smiled even more broadly. "I'm Rahim and we have certainly heard of you! Much of it from the Son-of-the-bat here. Come inside. We have much to discuss."

Once inside Rahim's hut, they were seated and offered water to wash in, then given cups of tea. Nightwing just stared at his until Batman glared at him, then he began taking small, careful sips.

Seeing the interplay, Rahim sat down. "Why doesn't Nightwing speak for himself?"

Batman replied shortly, "The T'Shal. Nightwing can speak with his hands. I will translate for him."

Rahim gave Nightwing a sympathetic look. "We have heard about what the T'Shal do to their captives. You are lucky to have been stricken so lightly. You'd better stay inside, at least until we can smuggle you out of here. The aliens have been sending multiple patrols through here looking for you."

Nightwing frowned and gestured to Batman, who nodded. "How many and in what numbers?" Batman asked, sipping his tea.

"Since the battle yesterday, there have been four units of six aliens each. Each time they've searched our homes and scanned our elders telepathically. The next time they come through, we won't be able to hide you here." He sat down facing them. "The techniques your team has taught us work well when the T'Shal don't know what they're looking for. We're able to distract them, then. But now, they are focusing on knowledge of you, Nightwing, and that we cannot hide or distract from."

Batman and Nightwing exchanged glances. "_Maybe we should split up_," Nightwing signed to Batman. _"They're looking for me, not you. I...think they're somewhere around here. Somewhere close."_

Batman's eyebrows rose and he smoothly addressed Rahim, "We won't be able to stay long, then. We don't want to endanger your people. We'll move on and thank you for your hospitality." They both got up and moved toward the door.

"Go carefully, then," Rahim said. "And good luck." He opened the door and ushered them out.

They stepped into the darkness, which suddenly flashed into blinding light and noise.

* * *

BIALYA

RESISTANCE STAGING AREA/CAVE

"They're not here," Wally picked up an empty water bottle and a half-eaten MRE.

"But at least they were, or one of them was," M'gann said, rummaging through the supply pile.

"There were two of them," Artemis said with a broad grin. "Look! Nightwing's costume is gone, including his contact lenses, along with Superboy's."

"Hey, and they took the CD's, too!" Wally added. "Darn. I wanted to listen to the new Lady Gaga."

"They probably went to the village," M'gann said. "Superboy? How does it look outside?"

"It's clear, no T'Shal in the neighborhood. Ready to go?" Superboy answered M'gann's telepathic call.

M'gann surveyed the rest of the team. Wally and Artemis each grinned and nodded. "Okay, we're ready to go."


	12. An Unwanted Gift

CHAPTER 12

"Go carefully, then," Rahim said. "And good luck." He opened the door and ushered them out.

Batman and Nightwing stepped into the darkness, which suddenly flashed into blinding light and noise.

Too late to run, they'd been spotted. A patrol of six, no seven, T'Shal hovered there in anti-grav sleds, six feet off the ground. The leader, who looked and felt familiar to Nightwing had one of the village elders by the collar. On seeing Nightwing, the T'Shal dropped the elder over the side of the sled. The elder dropped to the ground and crawled away as swiftly as he could.

Batman was shifting his weight beside him and, as always in the past, Nightwing knew exactly what maneuver Batman would make and the exact order of the movements as clearly as if Batman had explained them.

They had no grappling hooks or lines, but then, there were no tall buildings to hoist them away from danger. Nightwing held his walking stick ready and hoped that his leg wouldn't give way. Batman went right, so Nightwing went left, using the stick to pole-vault himself up onto the nearest floating sled and quickly pushed its driver out. He drove the sled to the nearest alien and walloped the surprised alien off of his sled as well. Holding the staff defensively, he saw Batman fighting with two of the T'Shal and was about to go over to help him when he smelled the burn of an energy weapon bolt that just missed him. He ducked down, then heard the mental yell from the Chief Questioner, pointing at him.

::Don't hurt that one! I need him alive and intact! Bring him to me!::

Nightwing was dumbfounded. I heard that. His brief pause in surprise undid him. He didn't hear the paralyzing bolt that got him, but found himself powerless to keep from falling out of the sled and onto the dirt below. He couldn't move a muscle but could see Batman go down under a similar beam and two T'Shal tie him down. The aliens' thoughts were a babble in his mind, as well as the furious murmur of thought coming from Batman's mind. While the aliens hauled him up and into one of the sleds, he heard the thoughts of his old enemy, the Chief Questioner and felt him digging into Nightwing's mind, burrowing deeper and deeper. Unwilling memories of training as Robin when he was eight years old ran through his mind, of his adoption, then Batman forming the Justice League with Superman and Wonder Woman...

::Don't hurt the second one, either. The second primitive is of the same (house/family/nest) as the prisoner...ahh...is the (leader/Honored progenitor) of the prisoner::

The T'Shal questioner saw Nightwing watching him and focused its thoughts like a sharp spear, probing more deeply into Nightwing's frantic mind. ::This (leader/Honored progenitor) is considered valuable to the enemy! Yes, bring both::

The T'Shal were strapping Batman down into another sled and finished tying Nightwing into place. He saw the thoughts of the Chief Questioner and read the plans he was formulating for both of his prisoners with a frightening clarity. Minds sifted-then destroyed, their bodies given to the scientists for vivisection, then, not even death, but kept alive as exhibits for the education of the young T'Shal.

No. This couldn't happen again; he'd die first, at least that would be clean. He looked vainly around for help, for rescue, anything...They would destroy Bruce, the best and most heroic man he'd ever known, take apart his genius piece by piece. The Machine would obliterate them both and bring down the League with the secrets they couldn't help but divulge. No...this couldn't happen! This MUST...NOT...HAPPEN! The thought built to an explosive intensity until he began to see golden haloes surrounding every figure in his view. Rage poured upon rage, creating a determination stronger than any he'd ever had, even his need for vengeance, for justice against Tony Zucco when the man had killed his parents. Nightwing opened his mouth in a soundless howl of outrage and felt something go *snap* inside his mind.

The haloes suddenly got brighter as each of the T'Shal craft disintegrated into a million pieces. The T'Shal fell to earth, grabbing their heads and looking around wildly in terror. Stumbling, they began to run away as fast as they could move. The last thing that Nightwing saw was Batman crawling out from beneath the remains of a T'Shal sled and the bio-ship landing ten feet away. The bright haloes blurred and merged into a brilliant light and then he felt nothing at all.

The Team burst from the bio-ship at top speed and ran toward Batman and Nightwing. Superboy lifted the sled off of Batman, while Wally and Artemis made ready to chase down the T'Shal. "No, don't bother," Batman said, letting Superboy help him up. "Thanks, M'gann. That psychic bolt saved us...How is Nightwing?" He moved over to M'gann, crouching next to her, followed by Wally, Superboy and Artemis.

M'gann knelt next to Nightwing, a hand on his head, brow furrowed. She looked over at Batman, startlement on her face. "Batman, I didn't do that. Didn't you hear the mental shout? That wasn't me. That was Nightwing. He flattened them all telepathically and used his mind to destroy their anti-gravs. His mind has changed...it's different..." She looked over at Batman with wide eyes.

Batman reached a hand out and found a pulse at Nightwing's neck. "Is he all right?"

M'gann's eyes glowed for a moment, then she looked relieved. "He's in shock right now. He has overstrained himself, but I think that my uncle J'onn should take a look at him. I didn't know that Nightwing was meta."

"He isn't," Batman said thoughtfully.

* * *

JLA WATCHTOWER

MEDICAL BAY

Dick drowsed in the white light, hearing a steady murmur of voices, but couldn't catch their words. He felt enclosed, that something metallic was within inches of his nose and heard a loud banging sound around him and smelled an antiseptic odor. Was he back in the Machine? He opened his eyes and saw the shiny undersurface of a tube. Some new T'Shal horror? He had to get out of here! He tried to move but his arms and legs were pinned down. He began to struggle with the ties that held him down, growing more and more panicky with every second.

"He's waking up! Hold him still!" an irritated voice yelled.

"Sedate him!"

"You will do no such thing!" a familiar and very British voice interrupted. "Shut down your infernal machine for a moment and let me speak with him."

The loud banging sound stopped and the narrow table he lay on slid out of the tube. A familiar face bent over him. Alfred? Was he a captive too?

"Dear boy," Alfred said gently. "You are quite safe. We are in the medical section of the Watchtower and you are having an MRI scan to check that your brain was not injured by the T'Shal."

"Al...fred?" Nightwing got a hoarse whisper out.

"Yes, it is I, dear boy," Alfred said. "Now, try not to talk. I understand that your vocal chords were paralyzed and need time to recover. It's better if you don't use them until they have healed. Do you feel that you can continue with the MRI scan? Dr. Mid-nite is quite concerned about you."

Nightwing had dozens of questions. What had happened? How did he get here? Was everyone..."Batman?" he whispered.

"Quite well. He is consulting with Superman and Wonder Woman at the moment. Now just relax and try to go back to sleep. I'll be here if you need me."

Seeing no alternative, Dick nodded and closed his eyes. Alfred left his side and the table was fed back into the tube. The banging sound began again and haunted his dreams.

* * *

He dreamed that he stood next to Bruce and Alfred in front of a screen on which Dr. Mid-Nite ran a recording. "As you can see, there are multiple sections of his brain lit up. I've never seen this type of reading on a human, even a meta-human."

"What does it mean?" Batman's voice was quiet but held an undercurrent of tension.

"I'm not sure. I see evidence of lesions here...and here, undoubtedly caused by the T'Shal's hellish 'Machine'. But this kind of sudden burst of psychic power he evidenced is unprecedented among humans," Doctor Mid-Nite gestured to different portions of the screen.

"I have seen similar readings, allowing for the differences in our physiology." Martian Man-Hunter approached. "The brain damage is consistent with the cases of others subjected to the Machine. I believe that Nightwing's sudden psychic gift may be the direct result of the psychic contact he was forced to undergo as a prisoner."

"In what way?" Batman demanded. "How can brain damage create psychic ability?"

J'onn said. "I think that it massively enhanced what was already there in Nightwing's makeup. Telepathy? It has already been noted for years how you and Robin seemed to read each others' minds while in action. I would submit that, for Robin at least, that was true, although he was unaware of it. And for telekinesis," J'onn smiled. "M'gann has told me about their adventures as circus trapeze artists and how she was forced to use her own telekinetic abilities to keep from falling. Certainly, Nightwing's acrobatic abilities are highly trained, but I suspect that he gets his edge from just a touch of levitation. He has always had a bit of these gifts, but the effect of the Machine has enhanced them."

"What other effects can he expect? I don't like the sound of 'brain lesions'," Batman insisted.

"I cannot say," J'onn replied. "He is human, not Martian, so I cannot predict. It may be that these new gifts will increase or that they will fade away with time. Or he may burn himself out."

"What does that mean?" Batman eyed the screen. "More brain damage?"

"Potentially. There may be side effects related to the lesions. Only his doctor could predict that," J'onn admitted.

Doctor Mid-Nite shrugged. "I've never seen it before. My best advice is to check him periodically for changes in his brain scans, especially after use of his psychic abilities. There will be other issues to deal with as well. It isn't easy living as a telepath."

"Already taken care of," J'onn said reassuringly. "M'gann and I will both train him in how to hear and **not** hear others minds. Be assured that if this a permanent situation, he will have our full support."

* * *

When Nightwing next awoke, he was in a bed in a sterile-smelling room. His eyes were closed, but he knew that Bruce was sitting in a chair next to the bed and Alfred sat in another chair, reading one of his blood and guts murder mysteries. He 'listened' harder to Bruce and caught dueling thoughts. On the one hand, Bruce was worried about him, about the 'brain damage' that Doctor Mid-Nite had diagnosed. On the other hand, he was afraid...of Nightwing? These new powers could be dangerous to the League and to Batman himself if Nightwing lost control over them or became deranged in some way. He was making contingency plans to take Nightwing down if necessary...Nightwing's anger rose. How could Bruce possibly think that he'd be a danger to him or to the League! That was just ridiculous.

He heard a loud crash/pop from the table next to him as his water glass exploded. Nightwing's eyes flew open to see Alfred picking up glass and mopping the water away.

"Hello, dear boy," Alfred said genially. "I'm afraid that there must be some fault in the atmospheric pressure up here. Or else the glassware is defective."

Batman's gaze never left Nightwing's. "Alfred, why don't you take that out and get yourself a cup of coffee. I'd like to bring Dick up to speed."

"By all means, sir," Alfred said and left with the remains of the glass and pile of wet paper towels.

"My train of thought upsets you?" Batman said calmly.

"All right, I was reading your mind," Dick said in a rusty voice. "I didn't ask for this."

"I know you didn't, but you'll have to deal with it just the same," Batman replied. "You know what your diagnosis was?"

"I saw Doctor Mid-Night talking to you and Alfred. I heard what J'onn had to say," Dick admitted.

"So J'onn told us later. You're apparently somewhat precocious as these things go. Instead of building up slowly, your abilities woke up suddenly when we were in danger, probably as a result of great emotion," Batman leaned forward. "Want to talk about it?"

Dick sank back into his pillows. "Not really. I was...worried about our being captured."

"About your being plugged into that Machine again?" Batman asked. "It only makes sense that you'd have emotions surrounding it. You've had a pretty traumatic experience."

Dick sighed and looked at the ceiling. "You don't get it. I read the Chief Questioner's mind. I saw exactly what he had planned for the both of us and it wasn't pretty. Death would be preferable and a lot cleaner. It makes me want to throw up just thinking about it." He shifted his gaze to Batman. "Do you think I really want to read the Joker's mind? Or Two-Face? Or any of a dozen sick psychos I'm likely to come across? Just that brief contact with the T'Shal makes me feel filthy inside. I don't want this, Bruce. I'd be grateful if J'onn could find a way to burn it out of me."

Batman leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled before him. Post-traumatic stress he'd expected; Dick had been tortured while in captivity. But this new element startled him. He was almost envious. He'd been trying to figure out how Joker thought for years, but he could understand not wanting to be forced to overhear the Joker's thought processes. "I don't know what to do for you, Dick," he said honestly. "Our expert is J'onn. We'll have to hope he can teach you how to manage this." He got up, determined to leave the room before Dick read his mind and saw how worried he was.

Dick watched him go and clutched his pillow to his chest. Bruce's envy of Dick's new gift was unexpected but understandable. For the rest, well, if Bruce was worried, so was Dick.

* * *

Dick woke up to find Martian Manhunter seated in a chair next to his bed. "Hello, Nightwing," J'onn said without moving his lips. "I'm here to give you some training in your new gift."

Dick sat up and scrubbed at his hair. "Some gift," he thought back at J'onn. "This isn't what I'd ever planned for myself."

"Most gifts aren't," J'onn replied cheerfully. "Part of what I want to do today is to evaluate your abilities; to see how strong a telepath you are and to help you learn to live with it. I know that mind-reading is not common among humans."

"Unknown is more like it," Dick replied. "So, I take it that the Machine is responsible for this?"

"So we think. The forced rapport which the Machine provides, the...changes it made to your brain itself and, probably, the telepathy you have experienced over the years with M'gann have all helped to develop an intuition that is your genetic birthright," J'onn leaned back in his chair. "I understand that you are descended from a race of humans known for their...uncanny...abilities."

"Yeah, the gypsies always used to be considered either magical or psychic in some way. My great-grandmother made a living as a fortune-teller," Dick grinned. "I never thought it would breed true."

"It might have," J'onn said with a serious expression. "If you have any visions, be sure to share them with me. You might be seeing a potential future."

"Uh, okay," Dick said, dumbfounded. "You mean, this might get worse?"

"I mean that it might become more powerful and varied. Your mind has just awakened to its powers. There may be more abilities that haven't appeared yet." J'onn smiled peacefully. "But don't worry about it. You will have help and guidance, you know." J'onn got up. "I am going to walk down the hall. I want to evaluate your range, see how far you can project your psychic voice. Please keep talking to me for the next several minutes."

"Okay," Dick thought back at him. "Uh...I don't know what to say, so I'll just babble something..." For the next ten minutes, Dick conscientiously filled the dead air in his brain with nonsense until J'onn finally reappeared in the doorway.

"Well?" Dick asked, suddenly conscious of feeling drowsy.

"You have a greater distance than I do, but not so much as M'gann. I would estimate it at one eighth of a mile. I think that you will improve with practice. Are you feeling tired?" J'onn looked closely at Dick, still speaking silently.

"Yeah, suddenly I feel exhausted..." Dick stifled a yawn.

"That's explainable. You have been using an unaccustomed amount of energy during this past hour and you are tired. I think that we are done now. Rest, and I or M'gann will return for more training when you are ready," J'onn smiled at Dick again and left the room. Dick lay back in the bed, arms folded behind his head and wondered at the strange turn his life had taken. M'gann's abilities were an everyday occurrence for him; just part of what made her, her. These new abilities, though, they were frightening. And strange. He didn't like inadvertently walking through other people's minds.


	13. Learning

CHAPTER 13

Nightwing spent much of his time watching television between naps. Dr. Mid-Nite was insistent that he rest and go through a myriad of what Dick considered unnecessary tests. Still, until he was cleared he couldn't return to duty, so he tried to be patient.

M'gann came in while he was watching a dull sit-com. "Oh, you're watching television. I'll come back later," she said apologetically.

"No, sit down M'gann." Dick tried to say, then shifted to telepathy. "I'm glad to see you."

M'gann smiled. "How are you? Uncle J'onn told me about working with you."

"All right, I guess," Dick replied, thoughts going a mile a minute. "I have to admit it's handy while my voice is out of commission."

"Well, I'm glad you see something positive in the whole thing," M'gann replied. "Uncle J'onn wants me to go over some basics with you. You're probably noticing that you 'overhear' people when you don't want to. Do you overhear any of my thoughts that I don't intend you to know?"

Dick concentrated for a minute then had to admit, "No. I don't get anything from you until you 'talk' to me."

"That's because I'm shielding my mind except when I mind-talk. I can show you how to do that. Is that okay?" M'gann cocked her head to one side with a half-smile.

"You mean, you aren't going to just 'tell' me how to do it, do you? You want to go into my mind and show me?" Dick asked, suddenly edgy. "I...um...it isn't going to be like the Machine was, will it?"

M'gann frowned. "No...no, it won't be like that at all. I'm a friend. I'll just put the thought into your head, a complete demonstration. When I'm done, you'll know how to shield and keep others out of your head."

Dick sat in thought for a moment, then finally realized that he'd trusted his life to this girl multiple times in his life. "All right," he agreed, then closed his eyes and winced, expecting the overwhelming pain and invasion of the Machine.

Instead he felt a gentle fingertip touch on his forehead followed by a flood of knowledge. Suddenly, he knew exactly how to block unwanted thoughts from his mind; how to throw someone out, how to allow in only the thoughts he wanted and how to protect his own secrets and others. And best of all, how to keep the emotions of others from flooding him. The touch on his forehead ended and he leaned back against his pillows in relief, slamming up ironclad shields and hearing true silence for the first time in days.

"I'll bet that's a relief!" M'gann said and Dick realized that she'd spoken aloud and not into his mind.

"You don't know how much," Dick sighed, using his own rusty voice. "The orderly just broke up with his girlfriend and the nurse gets migraines." And Bruce thinks I might be a danger to him.

"Oh, I understand," M'gann said with a grin. "I have sisters, remember? Before I learned how to shield I discovered a lot of things I never wanted to know. Their shields aren't as good as mine."

"So it will keep my thoughts in, too?" Dick asked anxiously. "I kind of think I've been broadcasting my nightmares the past few nights..."

"You have," M'gann replied, putting a hand on his arm. "They moved the rest of the patients to the other end of the building until I could get you trained. So, I'd like you to shield and I'll try to break in. Okay?" she asked briefly.

"Okay," Nightwing said and focused on what he'd just been taught. "How's this?"

M'gann's eyes began to glow as she pushed against his shields. "Good. Very good...Okay, you can stop now," her eyes dimmed to normal. "That's pretty good. Practice it when you get a chance. It will only improve over time."

"Will it...will it protect me against the Machine if I get caught again?" Nightwing asked nervously.

M'gann gnawed at her lower lip. "Nightwing, very little can protect anyone against that thing. That's one of the reasons it's been banned. You should know that your experience has been reported to the Guardians at Oa for prosecution against the T'Shal. Hal has taken depositions from Uncle J'onn and I. We scanned you thoroughly right after you were brought in. We're hoping that if the Guardians intervene, the T'Shal can be stopped immediately without the need for an extended war."

"Is there any reason they wouldn't?" Nightwing asked, feeling a headache building behind his brows.

"Uncle J'onn says that the Guardians don't like to interfere and that because Earth is out at the galactic boundary, they're less likely to get involved. The solar system is...what do you call it? Out in the boonies. We're pretty remote."

"So, we're still on our own, aren't we?" Nightwing felt the fatigue building up in his body and he was ready for another nap. "When will I stop feeling this exhausted after I use telepathy?"

"You just have to build up to it. It's kind of like learning to run a marathon; you have to pace yourself." M'gann got up to go. "Go ahead and sleep. And practice whenever you can to build up your endurance."

"'Kay. G'night M'gann," Nightwing closed his eyes and went to sleep.

He felt a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, 'Wing. Sleep well," she said softly and tiptoed out.

* * *

He next woke to find Martian Manhunter sitting by his bedside. He was getting sick of sleeping all the time. "When is this going to stop? This napping constantly?" he asked, surprised that his voice worked.

J'onn shrugged. "Having these gifts takes up energy. You are adjusting. I'm here for some more training with you."

"What now? M'gann taught me how to shield and how not to broadcast. What more is there?" Dick stretched, finally feeling rested.

"You forget, you have some telekinetic abilities. You blew apart six alien vehicles with your mind. That's more than I can do, or M'gann, for that matter," J'onn said pleasantly.

Dick's eyes widened. "Do you mean that Batman is right and I am a danger? I don't remember much..."

"That's not surprising; you had over-stressed yourself and were in shock. Batman tells me that merely being angry caused you to destroy a water glass with your mind. Do you recall that?"

"Alfred said it was the air pressure..." Dick met J'onn's level gaze. "Or not..."

"You seem to have the power to destroy, intentionally or not. In any case, you can manipulate matter with a thought. Try to destroy this but keep the explosion barriered to within a few feet." J'onn removed a small teddy bear from his coat and set it on the side table.

Dick laughed. This was impossible. Okay, maybe he heard other people's thoughts, but so did M'gann and J'onn. Exploding things with a thought? He focused his mind and told the toy to explode.

It did, with bits of foam and plush raining down from the ceiling. "You forgot to contain the blast radius," J'onn, covered with white fluff, said dryly.

By the end of the morning, Dick had destroyed a variety of small toys and larger objects. After the first attempt, he remembered to control the rain of debris. Finally, J'onn called a halt when it became apparent that Dick was tiring.

"Take another nap, my friend," J'onn said with a smile, piling the last experiment into a trash bag. "You will continue to work on this with M'gann."

* * *

Unseen in another room, Batman and Superman watched a video feed from Dick's room.

"So he can blow up teddy bears," Superman commented. "That doesn't mean anything."

"His gifts may well be useful in a saboteur," Batman agreed. "But this has happened so quickly and he doesn't seem to have any upper limits on his abilities."

"Still worried that it'll all go to his head?" Superman asked. "I wouldn't. He's got a good head on his shoulders and he had an excellent upbringing."

Batman gave the Man of Steel an ironic half-smile. "Most of that was Alfred. Dick gets his upper-cut from me."

* * *

"He's sleeping, you idiot! We shouldn't disturb him."

"HeyIjustwanttomakesurehe'sokay."

"Slow it down, Wally, he can't understand you."

Nightwing opened his eyes and grinned at the bickering twosome. "Actually...I can," he said hoarsely and went to mind-speak. "Hi Artemis. Hi Wally."

She glared at Wally. "See. We woke him up."

"So, how are you doin', 'Wing?" Wally asked, sizing him up. "You're looking better than you did when I last saw you."

"The last time you saw him, he looked dead," Artemis added. "Hey, Nightwing, that's an interesting new talent you've got."

"Yeah," Nightwing replied glumly. "If you want that sort of thing."

"Hey, don't knock it," Wally reminded him. "It saved you and Batman. Man! I'll never forget seeing those sleds just fall apart in mid-air. And the look on the T'Shal faces...priceless!"

"So, when are you coming back on duty?" Artemis asked. "Rahim is asking about you. The whole village saw what happened and they figure you're their new savior."

"Well, I wouldn't hold my breath on that count," Dick said uncomfortably. "What I did put me in a hospital bed for I don't know how long."

"You're out, as of today," a voice said. They all looked over to see Batman in the doorway, Alfred next to him with a wheelchair.

Dick brightened. "Where am I going?" Then he scowled a bit. "Not back to the manor."

Alfred and Batman exchanged glances. "We had planned to let you recuperate at home, lad," Alfred said hopefully.

"There's still a war on," Dick said firmly. "If I'm out of the med-center, then I can go to work." He gave Artemis a side-look. "Um...where are my clothes?"

Wally, grinning broadly, quickly searched through the cupboards until he found a Nightwing costume hanging in the closet. "Looks like you're ready to go, bro."

Artemis grinned. "I know when I'm not wanted," she got up and headed for the door. "Let me know where you are, okay Dick? And you know that Mount Justice is always open."

"I know, Artemis," Dick grinned back. "I'll be back on the team as soon as I get a medical release."

Wally handed Dick the costume and helped him put it on while Batman settled in to argue.

"You're not ready for this, Dick," he said in that reasonable tone of voice that Dick found so aggravating.

"What, because I can do some things now that I couldn't before?" Dick asked, sitting down to pull his boots on. "I don't plan to use these...powers... except in emergency. And M'gann's on the team; she can keep tutoring me." He looked up. "I'm tired of sitting around in bed; useless. I need something useful to do. My leg is better and I feel fine." He slid over to the side of the bed and stood up, a little shakily.

"There's nothing wrong with you, physically," Batman said, arms folded. "The changes in your brain still worry me, though. You don't know your new limits yet. Shouldn't you take some time to get that established before you throw yourself into harm's way?"

"What better way to test my limits than to be in the field, actively using my abilities? I won't just sit here." Dick drew level with Batman. "And if Doctor Mid-Nite won't certify me fit for duty, I'll go anyway. I'm not a kid anymore, Bruce. You've been very clear about that." Saying that, Dick slid through the door. Wally shrugged and followed, leaving Batman and Alfred to exchange glances.

Alfred's shrug was a duplicate of Wally's. "He is as stubborn as you were at that age."

Batman met Alfred's level gaze. "Let's just hope he doesn't get himself killed this time, old friend," Batman sighed.

* * *

Dr. Mid-Nite sat across his desk with an anxious Nightwing seated in the visitor chair. "Well, I have no good reason to keep you on sick-leave," the doctor said, consideringly. "But you've seen some pretty dramatic physical changes."

"Brain damage, or whatever you're calling it," Nightwing responded, grinning. "So what? I haven't had so much as a headache since I got here what, a week ago? Just a really bad case of telepathy."

Dr. Mid-Nite couldn't help but grin back. "Granted. Your neurological responses are normal, you haven't had any seizures or other undesirable symptoms except, as you put it, unwanted psychic ability. Do you feel that you have a handle on the post-traumatic stress?"

Nightwing shifted uneasily. "I'd be lying if I told you don't have nightmares about the Machine, but that's normal, isn't it? But I've always had nightmares, since I was eight years old. You could say that it's normal for me. In any case, they've never prevented me from living my life or slowed me down."

"So I understand," Dr. Mid-Nite said, closing the file on his desk. "All right, I'll certify you fit. But if you do use your psychic abilities, I want you to come back in for another MRI to see whether it's having a negative effect on your brain scans."

"All right, it's a deal," Nightwing grinned broadly and stood up to go.

"I take it you're going back to your team?" Mid-Nite asked.

"Wouldn't be anywhere else," Nightwing said triumphantly.

* * *

T'SHAL

NORTHERN BIALYA HEADQUARTERS

::I do not believe you.::

::But it is true, Honored (untranslatable). The prisoner somehow has developed mental abilities far beyond what we assessed him at. At a thought, our floating transport fell to pieces and his shout disrupted our mental (thoughts/processes/defenses).::

::Chief Questioner, you are telling me that this primitive has suddenly developed mental powers so powerful that they were able to disperse and entire (cohort/squadron/family) of seasoned warriors and yourself? You ran like (larvae/hatchlings) at the sight of a (untranslatable predator)! How is it that this prisoner's powers were not discovered while we had him?::

::To my great shame, Honored (untranslatable), I believe that it was the Machine itself that may have precipitated this. As I once told you, the Machine was not created for use on humans. The...the damage it created in the prisoner's mind has somehow transformed this primitive's abilities to something approaching those of a (untranslatable savant).::

::Then you have created an even greater enemy through your incompetent actions. This new weapon of the enemy's must be neutralized and retained for the scientists. They will be even more interested in discovering how our Machine has turned a primitive into a credible threat. This you will do immediately. Do you know where this primitive warrior is now?::

::Yes, Honored (untranslatable). He is known to frequent the area surrounding a human settlement from whence we often draw our farm (slaves/draft-animals/drudges).::

::Well, prepare a trap, then and capture him. Must I instruct you?::

::Honored (untranslatable), this is not my designated skill. I am a Questioner, I do not have the skills of a Hunter.::

::Very well, then, I will assign a Hunter to your (cohort/squadron/family) to assist you. Bring me acceptable news the next time I see you.::


	14. The Trap is Set

CHAPTER 14

Rahim hid behind the hut that had been his home and watched the T'Shal rounding up all the men aged between fourteen and forty. They were shackled together in two lines. When the elder, Ahmed, had protested, the T'Shal had told him telepathically that the men were to be used as farm labor at the neighboring plantation. They were being taken as slaves, as had so many humans across the continent, to serve the new T'Shal settlers. Those not used as farm workers would become fodder for the T'Shal scientists.

Rahim had broken away from the weeping families and hidden, waiting for the T'Shal to leave. That he, himself was thirty-six, also entered into it, but most important, he was the only one who knew how to contact the Heroes.

The T'Shal and their stumbling captives slowly left the village. Rahim gestured to his nephew, Ali, a ten year old boy and gave him instructions. Ali nodded and swiftly began to follow the line of prisoners. Ali was practiced in stealth, having watched the hero Nightwing many times and been taught by him. Nightwing used to laugh at Ali, saying that when he himself had been a child he had learned many of the same things. Rahim hoped that Ali had learned truly.

Rahim moved into the brush surrounding the village and found the two boulders stacked up next to each other. He dug into the dusty soil and removed the tiny radio that Nightwing had given them and pressed the button. Nightwing had said that it would call him, night or day.

* * *

MOUNT JUSTICE

RHODE ISLAND

"All right, now, Nightwing, I want you to focus and keep the projectiles from hitting you," J'onn said. "Go."

Grinning broadly, Superboy threw tennis balls, Artemis drew her bow and tried to hit Nightwing with arrows while Wally simply buzzed around him trying to get him with his fists.

Nightwing, standing quietly in the center of the training ring, threw mental 'blows' in all directions. He exploded the tennis balls within a foot of his body, broke the arrows and managed to push Wally onto his rear multiple times. Finally, Wally shouted in pain and drew Nightwing's concerned attention. Then *thwap!* the tennis ball hit him in the shoulder while the arrow connected at last, piling a ball of foam around him. "Okay! Okay! I surrender!" Nightwing laughed. "Just get me out of this stuff, willya, Artemis? and Connor, when did your aim get so good?"

Standing by with a big smile, tossing a tennis ball, Connor replied, "Clark has been teaching me baseball, so my pitch is improving. He says I'm the only challenge he has on a diamond."

"Well, yeah," Dick said, while Wally and Artemis cleared the foam away. "And those tennis balls are gonna bruise for sure. Remind me not to make you mad," he yawned and turned to J'onn. "I'm only a little tired. I don't want to stop yet."

"Well, we can work on more..Nightwing, your wrist is blinking," J'onn noted.

Nightwing opened his wrist computer and read the screen. "It's from Rahim. There's trouble. Where's M'gann? We need to go."

"She said something about making chocolate chip cookies today," Artemis said. "I think she went shopping for ingredients."

"Oh yeah, cookies," Wally's eyes got vague and he licked his lips."

Artemis elbowed him. "Wally, focus!"

"M'gann," Nightwing said into their communicator. "We have an emergency. When are you coming back?"

Her face appeared on the screen, startled. "I'll be there in ten minutes. What is it?"

"Rahim and the village. Make it fast, okay? We've gotta go," Nightwing instructed. "Okay everyone, suit up. Sorry, J'onn but we'll have to delay my training."

"Of course, Nightwing, good luck. I'll be at the Watchtower if you need me," J'onn moved over to the zeta tubes and made his departure.

While Nightwing suited up into his most armored uniform, his communicator beeped. Looking at the return code number, he sighed, then activated it. "Yes, Batman. What can I do for you?"

"J'onn just told me about your next mission. It's a trap; you know that."

"Thank you, I'm just fine. How are you and Alfred?...Yes, Bruce, I pretty much figured it must be a trap. Rahim's village is known to be under our protection," Nightwing pulled on one gauntlet, his face sullen. Why was it that only Batman could bring that expression to his face?

"So you have contingency plans for it?"

"No, I thought we'd just make it up as we go along.. Of course I have contingencies planned for, but there's only so much you can anticipate, Bruce, _you_ taught me that. Remember what you told me? 'No battle plan survives contact with the enemy'. My team is as prepared as it can be." He pulled on the other glove.

"Do you want me to...?"

"No. I do NOT want you to do anything, Batman. You've already shared your concerns about my fitness for duty. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?" Nightwing demanded.

Batman's face on the screen was cold. "No, nothing more."

"I'll call you when we're done. Nightwing out," Nightwing shut down the communicator.

"He's only worried about you," Wally stood in the doorway, ready for the mission.

"Yeah, well, he's the one who made me a solo act," Nightwing smoothed his uniform. "I'm ready. Let's go."

* * *

VILLAGE OF HASHAIN  
NORTHERN BIALYA

The bio-ship got them there in record time, but as they circled over the village they could tell it was too late. Lazy spirals of smoke curled up from the burned out huts that had formerly ringed the place. Bodies huddled around the central fountain, struck down by fire from the air.

M'gann set the bio-ship down on a clear spot and they all cautiously moved into the village, weapons drawn. Wally raced off to do a quick reconnoiter of the area and soon returned, face solemn.

"There's nobody alive for a mile or more," he reported. "Even the herd animals have disappeared; stolen, I assume."

"What happened here?" Nightwing asked desolately, as he checked yet another body for life.

"The T'Shal would be my guess," Artemis said. "They knew that this village was a center of the resistance. These people died because they helped us."

"They died because they helped me," Nightwing said softly. "Batman and I stopped here after he rescued me. We couldn't stay...but they found us here anyway. Damn!" He swore and the tree next to him exploded. Nightwing backed away, suddenly afraid of his own power.

"Don't worry about it," M'gann said calmly, damping it with her mind. "You're upset and you have reason."

Connor turned suddenly, "What's that noise?" He sprinted into the brush and pulled out a child. He was small and wiry, struggling against Connor's hold. He broke free and ran to Nightwing, who recognized him. "Ali!"

"Nightwing! You have to help us!" Ali huddled in Nightwing's arms. "They took all the men, then came back and killed everyone else." Nightwing looked up and met the shocked glances of his team. He smoothed the boy's hair and asked gently, "How did you escape, Ali?"

"Uncle sent me to follow the men and see where they were taken. He was going to call you and see if you could rescue them. But when I got back..."Ali looked around the village. "E..everyone was dead..."

Nightwing nodded to the team. "We'd better make sure there aren't any survivors. Go in two's. Wally with M'gann and Connor with Artemis. I'll stay here with Ali and get more information."

"Where are they?" Nightwing asked the boy, kneeling in front of him. Ali pointed up the road. "About ten miles, past the grove of trees, there's a new T'Shal settlement. They took over five human farms to make it and stole all the people that were there to be workers. We thought they had enough and wouldn't bother us." His head dipped. "We were wrong."

"All right, we'll find them and help them if we can. How many people were taken?" Nightwing asked the boy.

"About twenty people, all the men in the village between fourteen and forty," he said, sadly. "They killed all the women and children left..."

"Do you know how many humans work on the plantation?" Nightwing's eyes kept moving, checking for the T'Shal's return.

"About fifty, I think," Ali said. "There are families there, and little kids."

"Okay, there are too many for us to rescue without advance planning," Nightwing spotted a downcast Connor and Artemis approaching. "Anyone?" he asked, already expecting the answer.

"They killed babies and little kids," Connor said, voice shaking. "They didn't have a chance."

"There was no one," Artemis reported angrily. "Even the pets..."

"That pretty much matches what we found," Wally came up behind them. "This place is a ghost village, now."

M'gann was silent, her eyes sad.

Nightwing took one final look around the area. Ever since they'd arrived, he'd had a niggling feeling that they were being watched, but even with his new power, he couldn't narrow it down. "All right," he said. "This will need more planning. But it's time to leave this place. Come on, Ali, let's go."

The boy nodded but took one last look at the village as they boarded the bio-ship. Nightwing watched him, old memories clustering in his mind. He gently led the boy to his seat on the bio-ship and strapped him in, then they took off.

* * *

T'SHAL

NORTHERN BIALYA HEADQUARTERS

::I fail to see the necessity for simply watching the prisoner and his team in an empty village. My tasks as Questioner are more direct.::

::You do not understand the concept of stalking the prey and learning its ways. That is clear. The prisoner you took has been trained as a predator. It is necessary to stalk him as a predator, not some fat (untranslatable game bird) waiting for your (slings/snares). However, this is a predator with a weakness; a tendency to compassion, as you noted in your reports of his sessions with the Machine. It is good that the enemy did not take _that _information from your mind before rescuing your prisoner.::

::You mock me, Honored Hunter, but you forget that my (discipline/avocation/calling) has its own merit. How long will it take before you restore my prisoner to me?::

::Patience, torturer of the helpless. I have set the hook and will soon pull the line on my prey. He cannot help himself."

* * *

WATCHTOWER

CONFERENCE ROOM B

"So that's the summary. The neighboring plantation has expanded by ten huts, consistent with the addition of the men from the village. We counted dead in the village of Hashain, amounting to seven children under the age of three, five more under age fourteen, six elderly and twenty women. Total dead are thirty-eight people, leaving a single survivor, a ten year old boy," the sadness in Dick's voice tugged at Bruce's heart, remembering another young boy who had watched his world destroyed.

"This...this is deplorable," Wonder Woman's soft voice rang through the room. "We knew that the T'Shal were capable of atrocities," she nodded toward Nightwing. "But we didn't know that it could be on this scale."

"As we expected, they're in it for the long haul," Green Arrow pointed out. "They're bringing the local population under control and emptying the land for their own people."

"There's something more going on here," Batman pointed out. "This village was targeted. This one and not another more distant. Why?"

"You know the answer to that as well as I do, Batman," Nightwing replied, cold determination in his voice. "They helped us. Not only were they a center of the human resistance, but they sheltered us when we were on the run. I can't help thinking that this is a pointed attack."

"And you feel responsible. I understand, but that's not a good reason for rash action," Batman replied, just as coldly.

"Would you two please take your family arguments back to the Manor?" Green Arrow said in frustration. "The simple fact is that these aliens...sorry Superman...are indulging in genocide. We can't let that go unavenged."

"It's clear that we have to take action," Superman said reasonably. "But does it mean that Nightwing's team should be the ones on the ground?"

"Yes. It does." Nightwing's eyes scanned the gathered senior heroes of the League. "They were our contacts, our friends. They were killed because of their relationship with my team. We have a responsibility to them and I don't see any reason to remove this mission from my team's authority." He paused, giving the commanders an entreating look. "You chose us because of our stealth experience. We're good at what we do and we know the territory." He grimaced. "And we know the T'Shal. Intimately."

"Well, you've certainly argued your point. I move we put this to a vote. All in favor of sending Nightwing and his team to free the captured humans, so indicate..." Superman stated and watched as the hands went up; and noted that Batman's didn't.

"All opposed?" The single opposition was Batman's.

"Care to share your thoughts, Batman?" Superman asked.

"I've already expressed them. This is a targeted attack on Nightwing and his team. I still have my doubts regarding Nightwing's fitness for duty. A fact that his most recent MRI scan bears out," Batman said darkly.

"We've been over this, Batman," Superman replied. "Doctor Mid-Nite doesn't think that the progression of the brain lesions is significant, absent any symptoms. If anything, Nightwing has become more powerful."

"As I said, I've expressed my views, both to this body and to Nightwing himself. He's made his decision regarding the mission already." Batman stood up and swept out of the conference room in a swirl of cape.

"Well, Nightwing, the mission is yours. Please let the League know if you need any resources to support it. We've already put together a refugee center to receive them," Wonder Woman said cordially to Nightwing.

"How is Ali doing?" Nightwing asked. "It's not easy losing your family that young."

"I know," Wonder Woman said sympathetically. "He's staying with relatives in non-T'Shal controlled territory and seems to be settling in well."

"That's good," Nightwing said, getting up. "We'll start preparing and will let you know when we're ready."


	15. Unintended Consequences

CHAPTER 15

Every night since the village, Nightwing dreamed of the thirty eight dead. Their eyes liquid, they all watched him swing on a trapeze then fall to earth and strike it with a crunching sound, the same sound he'd heard when his parents died. The children were the worst. Their dark eyes followed him everywhere, faces silent and hollow. He woke several times a night and finally had to move to a more remote room. His neighbors had begun to complain about nightmares and he knew that he was broadcasting. He threw himself into the mass escape preparations more thoroughly, planning, always planning.

Batman had no more complaints that Dick didn't look at every contingency. He discussed the plan with Batman exhaustively, trying to make sure that nothing would fail. Batman began to watch him with ill-disguised concern.

Dick also sat with the Martian Manhunter, trying to control his new gift. At the very least, he wanted to stop projecting the nightmares that robbed him of sleep. The power spiked at odd times and he struggled to control it, working his way up from teddy bears to obsolete weaponry that J'onn had found somewhere.

He didn't speak of his new abilities with anyone but J'onn and, sometimes, M'gann. He didn't trust them, they didn't feel quite real yet, but he hoped that they would prove useful.

Finally, he had prepared as much as he could. It was time to make contact with the elders and set a date for the escape.

* * *

NEIGHBORING PLANTATION

CONTROLLED BY THE T'SHAL

"The area looks quiet," Wally reported back. "Most of the humans are working in the fields. Strange that the T'Shal don't use farming machinery."

"I don't recognize the plants they're weeding," Artemis added from another quarter of the field.

"I do," Nightwing answered. "John Stewart showed me pictures of it. It's a kind of hypnotic flower that can be made into an intoxicant. It's like opium to an alien metabolism. Also banned in much of the galaxy; looks like it's their cash crop." He removed his field glasses from is eyes. "That's why they want Earth. We're out of the way and they think we're primitive; easily exploited, with an easily coerced workforce."

"The elders are afraid," M'gann, disguised as Ali, called telepathically. "I'm in the fields with them. They heard what happened in the village and fear retribution if they fight back."

"We have to convince them somehow," Nightwing responded. "They can't live like this."

"You might be able to convince them, Nightwing. They've had the most contact with you; they don't trust me because I'm an alien and a girl," M'gann said with disgust.

Nightwing pondered for a moment, gauging risks. "All right. Tell them I'll meet with the elders tonight, after dark."

"Nightwing, are you crazy? You know the T'Shal want you," Connor protested.

"There's got to be a better way to handle this!" Wally chimed in.

"We don't have a choice. If their leaders don't trust us, we can't make this work. There are too many people to evacuate to do this escape on the fly. The elders have to coordinate so that the ships can pick all of them up. It'll be fine," Nightwing said, putting his binoculars back to his eyes. "We have to get this right so that word will spread to the other enslaved humans... Watch it, overseer approaching..."

The three team members watching ducked into the underbrush while M'gann faded back among the workers. An anti-grav sled with two T'Shal approached and came to a stop, watching the workers as well. Nightwing eased himself forward to see better and trained his glasses on the sled. The one he recognized as the overseer, but who was the other... The second T'Shal looked insectoid, like the rest of the race, but was more heavily built and taller. He looked...dangerous. Nightwing decided to try an experiment and focused his mind on the tall one, attempting to 'listen' to its thoughts.

He had caught only a sense of amusement when the alien's head swung around in his direction, searching the bushes for something...him. The glint of eyes stopped and focused on his clump of underbrush. Nightwing froze and blanked his mind behind every shield he could throw around himself. Slowly, slowly the tall one's attention turned away from the underbrush and back toward the workers. Nightwing finally let himself breathe again when the sled drove away and back to the main house.

* * *

::He was there today.::

::Who?::

::My prey, Honored Overseer. Follow my orders as we discussed.::

::As you wish, Honored Hunter.::

* * *

THAT EVENING

Nightwing arrived at the appointed spot when the moon began to rise. To his surprise only a single elder was there to meet him, Muhammad, cousin of the murdered Rahim. Nightwing looked around, making sure that the team was deployed around him as planned, then relaxed a bit. "What's wrong, Muhammad?" he asked.

"They have taken my family," a frightened-looking Muhammad said. "My cousin Rahim's village was wiped out by these...creatures...and now they threaten all the humans on this plantation. They say that they will kill everyone, old men to young babies. You have brought this upon us, you and your resistance. All the deaths are your fault!" Two T'Shal stepped out from behind the old man and advanced on Nightwing.

"Get out of here! It's a trap!" Nightwing shouted telepathically to the team, jumping away from Muhammad. He found himself running into a tall, heavily built T'Shal. He pulled the escrima sticks off his back and began to fight the T'Shal, but the sticks bounced off the insectoid's shiny carapace.

"You have an interesting way of defending yourself," the T'Shal projected into his mind. "You don't use real weapons, do you?"

Nightwing kicked out, only to discover that human weak spots weren't the same on a T'Shal body. The Hunter, however, was familiar with those on a human and Nightwing doubled over when he was kneed in the groin. He was dimly aware that bolts of energy weapons' fire were shooting past him at his team. The T'Shal grabbed him by the neck, tight against the carotid artery until Nightwing began to fade out. He couldn't shout, but he could still call telepathically to M'gann. "M'gann! What's your status?"

"Working towards you...lots of weapons fire..."

"I heard that, you know," said the Hunter, holding Nightwing in front of his body like a shield. "Stop! Halt all fire!" he called to his soldiers. "And you-humans-stop! I have your leader and I wish to negotiate."

"Let him go or I'll make you!" demanded Superboy, moving in closer.

"I've heard of you," the T'Shal said, his voice sounding through a mechanical translator that turned hisses and clicks into English. "You aren't even from this planet yet you support the primitives. In any case, if you get any closer, your leader dies. Understand?" He twisted his hand against Nightwing's neck, choking him until Superboy stopped in place.

"What is it you want?" M'gann demanded telepathically.

"I have an offer. I have a hundred unruly humans, no better than farm animals. I'll take a trade. You leave me with your leader, I'll give you the humans," he tightened his grip on Nightwing.

"I'm not worth anything, you know," Nightwing rasped. "They've changed all the codes, so my information is out of date."

"You beat the Machine," the T'Shal hissed into Nightwing's ear. "Not only that, but you apparently left with more psychic ability than you entered. We need to know why."

"Well, the answer is 'no'!" shouted Artemis, taking a bead with her bow.

"You'll let them go now?" Nightwing asked quietly. "All of them? No exceptions? My team, too?"

The T'Shal made a motion like a shrug. "All of them. Their owner will be upset but he'll soon have more from the Central Authority. I give you my word of honor."

"Do you even have honor?" Nightwing asked, then realized that, along with the cruelty was a kind of honor. The monster would keep its word. "All right," Nightwing said. "But I watch them go. Team!" he called. "Call Base and have those ships available to pick up refugees asap. There is to be no resistance from you. I've made my deal and I will stick to it."

Ten minutes later, two huge transport pods landed a hundred yards away. Batman had piloted one and came to usher his collection of fifty humans away. He stopped ten feet from the Hunter, who was still holding Nightwing, and his mouth tightened.

"Nightwing, are you all right?" he asked, fists clenched.

"I'm fine," Nightwing grated back to him. "Sorry about this...made the best deal I could..."

"How many people in that village again?" Batman asked, his voice flat.

"A hundred or so," Nightwing said. "This is my fault. I got them involved with the resistance. Endangered them. I don't want another one hundred deaths on my conscience either, to add to the thirty eight."

Batman growled, "Are you really sure you want to do this?"

"You'd do the same thing in my shoes," Nightwing said softly. "And don't deny it. Watch out for the team, huh?"

"Enough conversation," the Hunter said. "All your humans are loaded. Take them away and leave. I keep my word. Now you will keep yours."

Batman backed away, never taking his eyes off Nightwing. The Team followed reluctantly, but finally boarded the ship, ordered on board by Batman.

Nightwing watched as each human boarded the ships, counting the numbers until he was satisfied that every man, woman and infant was on board, as well as his team. The ships took off, blasting into the sky just as the morning dawned.

All was silent.


	16. Fighting Back

CHAPTER 16

Nightwing looked into the sky, watching the ships fly away then sighed with relief. The people were all gone with no lives immediately at risk.

"Your compassion will kill you," the mechanical voice of the Hunter broke his reverie. "Now, you will come with me." The Hunter peered into Nightwing's face inquiringly. "You humans are unnaturally ugly; do you know that? The parts of you which should be covered by shell are left bare."

"I gave my word," Nightwing replied. "And there's no need to insult me. Where are we going?"

"Back to our base," the alien said and pushed a button on his belt. A tangle of sticky cord shot out, immobilizing the human from the waist up. "Get into the vehicle," he pushed his prisoner over to a float sled and stood over him while he climbed in. Sitting in the seat next to him, the Hunter activated the motor and they took to the air. During the course of the ride, Nightwing managed to get a hand into his cuff and removed a vial of acid. He chuckled to himself; old fashioned but standard equipment in all bat-gear. You never knew when you might need it. He began to drizzle it onto the cords hidden from the Hunter's view. As the sled drew toward the alien base, he could feel the ties beginning to part.

The sled landed and the Hunter grabbed Nightwing's arm, hauling him out of the sled. The Hunter quickly coded in the entrance password, shoving Nightwing ahead of him into the hallway beyond. As he moved forward, the last cord parted and his arms were free. Nightwing turned on the Hunter with a fierce grin, aiming a kick at the alien's hip joint where the carapace didn't cover.

The Hunter, caught by surprise, went down on one leg, but quickly countered with a blow from its arm. Nightwing danced back, grinning even more broadly. "I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for this!" he said as he lunged forward and landed a blow on the Hunter's elbow joint. "I know that you're weaker at the joints. I threw the fight before."

The Hunter struggled to his feet and countered with blows of his own, aiming at Nightwing's face and gut, but the battle was a foregone conclusion. The Hunter had been caught by surprise and was crippled in the first thirty seconds of combat. Nightwing caught the alien in the other hip, brought him down and tied him up in what was left of the tangle cord, using a last remnant as a gag.

Waving a cheery goodbye to the furious alien, Nightwing opened a pouch in his boot and removed a handful of small disks. He began deploying them throughout the hallways of the building. He cautiously opened a few round doors and was gratified to find some places that looked like armories and computer rooms. He added extra disks there.

He stopped in a darkened corner and focused his mind as J'onn had taught him. "Bruce?"

He read startlement, then a mix of pleasure and relief. "Dick? How is it going?"

"Fine so far. I've got the Hunter tied up and I've spread the disks throughout section three of the building. Am now heading for section two. Did the prisoners get to their refugee camp okay?" As he mind-talked, Nightwing continued attaching his explosives to portions of the building.

"I saw them off the ships myself. They're getting settled in. (feeling of concern) Are you sure they can't read us telepathically?"

"I think they have to be either really close or in physical contact to read me," Dick responded. "Is the team ready? The troops?"

"On your call," Bruce replied. "You're showing talent as a tactician." Dick was surprised to read pride and affection in Bruce's mind.

"Uh...Thanks, Bruce," he answered, unwittingly sending a flash of surprise and pleasure at the praise. When M'gann and J'onn did telepathy you never got emotions in the background like this. Must be some kind of slop-over; maybe because he was human? Or because he was new at this? He'd have to ask them about that. "Anyway, I should be in the middle of section two shortly, then I'll..." His mental voice stopped.

"Dick? Are you there? Is everything okay?" Bruce's mental voice had overtones of concern.

"Uh Bruce...OW...I just got shot with a paralysis beam. Three T'Shal and my old friend the Chief Questioner are dragging me somewhere...Gonna try to read him...Uh oh.."

"What's happening?" (Dark swirling thoughts from Bruce's mind.)

"Bruce, you remember how I had to dissect a frog in High School biology class?"

"Yes. You hated it." (Flash of amusement; unidentified emotion, tightly controlled.)

"Well, it looks like I'm the frog this time. They're moving me into section two, grid reference A. You'd better fire 'em up and roll 'em out." (Fear, quickly hidden)

Silence...long...drawn out. Nightwing wondered if Bruce had heard him...if he was still out there...

Bruce's mental voice returned. "I have you at section two, grid reference A. Implementing the plan at three...two...one...mark!" The Batman's mental voice was cool and crisp, reminding Nightwing of all the missions they'd shared. Even in the midst of chaos, somehow Batman was always in control of every detail. It was a comforting thought. They had planned everything down to the last element. He hoped it would work.

* * *

NORTHERN BIALYA

10 MILES FROM ENEMY BASE

Batman, seated in a camouflaged heli-jet, played his hands over a control board, giving a series of commands.

"Team One, go! Extract Leader per plan Omega. Location: section two, grid reference A. Leader is conscious but incapacitated. Do you copy?"

"We have you, Batman. Section two, grid reference A. On it," Artemis' calm voice came over the radio.

"JLA Base," Batman radioed. An image of Superman appeared on the screen.

"We read you Batman. Go ahead?"

"Per Leader, he's seeded section two with explosives and will detonate on our mark. Team One is on extraction mission. Ready to send in the troops?" Batman gave Superman a wolfish grin.

Superman grinned back. "I've been waiting for this. We're ready to go. On our way."

Batman closed his eyes and sought out his son with his mind. Telepathy was unsettling at best, but especially when you were sharing thoughts with an estranged son. Who was all alone in a dangerous place. He settled his emotions and took a calming breath.

"I have you at section two, grid reference A. Implementing the plan at three...two...one...mark!"

Nightwing, lying on an examination table in a lab, closed his eyes and sent a thought down the hallways of the alien base. He found the first disk he had planted and made it explode. Then the second. The third. The fourth. Then he brought the wing of the building down.

The building shook and the T'Shal who had been about to cut into his skull fell to one side and dropped the saw he was holding. Nightwing focused on the four T'Shal in the room with him and pushed them away from the table on which he lay. Then he pushed them again. The saw exploded into a burst of fire and shrapnel. Looking with his mind, he saw the side of the building cave in as he ignited the second round of explosives.

Close overhead he heard the sound of heavy engines, heli-jets dropped to a landing outside the confused muddle of T'Shal running for cover. More explosions. Nightwing smiled. The T'Shal's own aircraft now were nothing more than a memory.

With his mind, he watched the aerial battle take place overhead. Half the enemy base was burning. He smelled the smoke filling the room he was captive in but couldn't feel concern or anything but joy that these invaders were finally being dealt with as they deserved.

A few of the T'Shal craft had succeeded in taking off before the rest of their fleet was destroyed. They gave fierce battle to the invading fleet. A dark, bat winged craft flew in toward the base, clearly focused on landing next to the building. The T'Shal in an approaching craft spotted him and banked toward the black craft. The pilot flipped the switch that powered up an energy weapon, taking aim at the dark craft...waiting for the right second to fire. The alien pilot rejoiced that he would gain honor and glory for the (clan/nest/race) by destroying the black aircraft.

"Bruce! Get OUT of there! He's targeting you!" Dick shrieked in his mind. He saw Batman's chin lift up as he noted the bogie and tried to take evasive action. It would be too late, Dick saw that with the same sense of inevitability he'd felt when his parents' took that long fall from the trapeze. He had to stop it...He'd never moved anything so massive with his mind before...In the split seconds before the weapon fired, he focused every iota of his attention on the alien craft and let the power build...and build...and build until it was a bonfire in his mind. Time slowed down, a second became a year, there was plenty of time for this. He stoked the power higher until he could barely hold it and he could feel the atoms of his body shimmering apart. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he released it and threw it at the alien ship.


	17. Fathers and Sons

CHAPTER 17

The team suited up in body armor. Superboy was already wearing his new, lead-based suit and so far hadn't felt any emanations from the kryptonite embedded in enemy walls. He was glad that he would be able to report to Clark about this option, although he knew that Superman had always taken it as a point of pride that he didn't need to wear body armor like the other heroes.

The bio-ship had landed in the middle of chaos. Two fighters flew escort, clearing her way to a landing and gave a wing dip when she was safely down, while the air battle continued overhead. The team cautiously left the craft and made their way to the smoking husk that was all that remained of the alien base's east wing.

Superboy took lead, his relative toughness a protection against falling beams and debris. Wally, holding a scanner, followed next, with Artemis protecting him. M'gann took rear-guard, floating over the loose rubble.

"Do you read him, M'gann?" Superboy asked as he cleared their path of doughy- looking beams that made him want to wipe his hands.

"No. I'm not getting anything from his mind at all," M'gann's eyes narrowed as she focused. "Batman was in contact with him just a few minutes ago."

"I've got his tracer reading on the scanner," Wally commented. "Section 2, all right and it does look like grid A . This way," he pointed and Superboy began to clear a pathway.

Before long, they began to see the bodies of T'Shal caught by the explosions. The overhead lights began to flicker, then went out. Artemis and Wally each put on infrared goggles. Superboy wasn't blinded by darkness and neither was M'gann. At a crossroads, Wally gestured to the left and they met their first resistance in the form of two huge T'Shal who were as startled to see them as they were to see the T'Shal.

Wally sped forward and swept their feet out from under them as Superboy picked each one up and knocked their heads together. Stripping them of their weapons and zip-tying their hands and feet, the team stepped around them and went on.

The air quality began to worsen, the smell of strange materials burning making the air acrid and dense. "We'd better put on breathing masks," M'gann said calmly.

"Are you okay with the temperature in here?" Artemis asked.

"So far, I'm fine. I'll let you know if the fire gets to me," M'gann replied. "Still can't read Nightwing's mind. How are you doing, Wally?"

"I've got him on screen," Wally said. "Take a right at the next opening."

They went through the opening to find a long tube-like hallway and found a round door. As before, Superboy opened it and they all piled into the room. On first appearance, it looked empty except for a metal table with cuffs at hands and feet. Then they saw the scorched walls and the small piles of ash scattered around the room. Wally picked up part of what looked like a bone saw from the floor, then looked at his scanner. "He should be here. That's what the scanner says…"

Artemis moved over to the table and pulled a glove out of one of the melted cuffs. "He was. This is where the tracer is, isn't it? What happened here? It looks like a nuke exploded inside this room." All three looked at M'gann, who shrugged. "I don't know. This is all beyond me. I must ask Uncle J'onn."

"Yeah," Wally said. "But where is Nightwing?"

"M'gann, you getting anything?" Superboy finished studying the debris.

M'gann's eyes were glowing and her face had a look of deep concentration, then she sighed. "No. Still nothing. He could just be out of my range."

"So now what?" Artemis, still holding the glove, asked.

"Time to break radio silence," Superboy said. "Let's call him."

"No, it's too dangerous," Wally said, arms crossed. "I say we continue the rest of the mission. We may still find him. For all we know, he's somewhere else in the building, setting explosives like we originally planned."

M'gann nodded. "That's what I think we should do. Any objections?" No one argued. Artemis tucked the glove away and the team moved back into the hallway.

* * *

Nightwing finally came to a stop and leaned dizzily against a wall. The alien base was a lot bigger than what they'd mapped, but he also suspected that his mind wasn't working as well as it could be. After the explosion, he knew that he'd lost consciousness for a while. He'd awakened on the steel table. The T'Shal had disappeared, leaving small piles of char in their place. The paralysis had been burned away, so he'd slipped his hands out of the melted manacles and pulled his ankles away. Since then, he had tried and tried to call out with his mind to Batman, to M'gann, to anyone, but heard nothing. Even his wrist transmitter was broken somehow. He poked at it with a finger and a mass of molten plastic dropped out. There was nothing left but these spongy looking corridors around him, which he'd taken sour delight in mining with the tiny bombs. He'd fought down the few T'Shal he'd met with more ferocity than he'd thought himself capable. Pushing himself upright again, he tried the round door that faced him and forced it open. To his delight, he saw sunshine and went down the stairs to the ground.

Seeing wreckage in the field ahead, his walk became an unsteady run. A black, bat winged aircraft lay broken in two, with twin streams of dark smoke trickling out of it. A second, alien, craft was shattered into a hundred pieces further down the field inside a halo of shrapnel. Maybe, just maybe, he had managed to bring the alien down first? But what about Batman?

"Batman!" Nightwing shouted as he ran, leaping over pieces of debris until he finally got to the batwing. It had been cracked open like an egg, leaving the cockpit open to the air. The still figure of a man was strapped into a seat, hanging down limply, black cape fluttering in the wind.

Nightwing ducked around the body and pulled the bottom of the cowl away, feeling for a pulse. He sagged when he felt a heartbeat thumping against his fingers and undid the straps with trembling fingers. He eased Batman down to the ground and checked him for broken bones. The air battle had moved away, so he pulled Batman's cowl off and checked his eyes; concussed, definitely. He looked for a communicator and found it, smashed. There was nowhere to go, so Nightwing sat with Batman propped against his shoulder, trying to reach M'gann with his mind.

After a while, he heard a low mumbling and realized it was Bruce.

"Bruce?" he looked down into his mentor's face and found his blue eyes looking back up at him.

"Dick...?" Bruce focused on him. "You...okay? Your eyes...they're glowing..." He blinked and the glow faded.

Dick grinned. "I'm probably better right now than you are. Your ship crashed, I guessed. What happened?"

Bruce's lips quirked. "You tell me. I saw a bolt of _something_ hit the alien before he hit me. Knew it wasn't my guardian angel. You've got a long reach, boy."

"So he did get you, huh?" Dick shook his head, then thought better of it. "I've gotta do better next time."

"You did just fine, now help me up." Bruce struggled to stand, then went down again as his right knee gave way beneath him. "Damn..."

"Twenty bucks in the swear jar," Dick commented as he eased him back to the ground again.

"I won't tell Alfred, if you don't," Batman straightened his bad leg on the ground. "Feels like a good sprain, from the swelling." He looked around the field. "We need to get out of here, Dick."

"Agreed," Dick said and helped him up again, arm under his shoulders. "Maybe if we find shelter, we can fix the communicators."

"Good plan," Bruce said, sweat running down his face.

Seeing Bruce's difficulty, Dick said shyly, "I can carry you."

"No," Bruce replied through gritted teeth and limped gamely on. The two moved slowly down the remains of a road, surrounded by the desolation of an empty landscape.

"Bruce?" Dick finally said, readjusting his hold under Bruce's shoulder.

"Yeah?" Bruce grunted.

"Did you mean it when you said you thought I was shaping for a good tactician?"

"I never say things I don't mean," Bruce replied. "Yes, I meant it and yes, you are."

"I..um...read some emotions behind what you said. It felt like..." Dick gulped in a breath and tried again. "Are you proud of me?"

Bruce gave him a half-smile. "Of course I am." He looked away into the distance. "I don't say it very often. This is the part that I'm not very good at. We had grown apart, you were creating your own life. I left too much unsaid. Then the Joker shot you."

"And you freaked out," Dick said.

"I couldn't stand the responsibility for my suddenly grown-up partner. You were taking adult risks and I had trouble handling it. Yesterday, you were a talkative nine year-old and today you're a man, making his own decisions. But I suppose that this is the way it always is," Bruce glanced over at Dick and smiled.

"The way it always is?" Dick asked in puzzlement.

"Between fathers and sons," Bruce replied.

* * *

The team found them on the road, two miles from the remains of the alien base. The bio-ship transported them back to the JLA Base in time for the final results of the battle to come in.

Superman came into the medical center and found Batman's sprained knee being treated. "How are you doing?" he asked, scanning Batman's knee.

"Sprain, they tell me," Batman edged off the exam table and took the crutch that Dr. Mid-Nite handed him. "So, where are we with the T'Shal?"

Superman smiled. "We've driven them out of Bialya. Thanks to Nightwing's explosives, their base has been thoroughly destroyed. The remaining enslaved humans have been freed." He saddened. "We still have to deal with Rhelasia and Pan-Africa, but we've made a start at throwing the T'Shal off the planet."


	18. Give Me a Mission!

CHAPTER 18

WATCHTOWER

ONE WEEK LATER

Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman convened an executive meeting with Nightwing in the Watchtower conference room. Nightwing entered the room and seated himself at the table. Noting that he was the only other participant, he began to examine his conscience for any recent screw-ups but came up with nothing. He decided to go with a proactive stance. "So, what's all this urgency about?"

Wonder Woman looked solemn and put a printout on the table. "Our cleanup crews dug out the ruins of the T'Shal base and found the body of Queen Bee."

Nightwing listened with disinterest. "We've always known that she was in collaboration with the T'Shal. What's so surprising that she died with them?" He picked up the printout and noted that there had been an autopsy. "No autopsy report? I assume she was crushed when the building fell in, or asphyxiated in the fire."

Batman, face unreadable, pressed a button on the table lighting several screens. "Dr. Mid-Nite, thank you for joining us."

Dr. Mid-Nite stared into the screen at those present, his eyes finally lighting on Nightwing. "Ah...This is the discussion we talked about."

Seeing the doctor, Nightwing felt a sudden sense of unease. "This is about Queen Bee's autopsy, right?"

"Doctor, would you give us your findings?" Wonder Woman asked. The screen blanked out, then showed an MRI scan. The second screen depicted a slice of human brain tissue, riddled with holes.

"The image on screen one is a dissected section of Queen Bee's brain. It shows considerable degradation in the gray matter, with lesions spreading out from a central core here, and here." A pointer showed a series of filaments branching out from the largest hole to a series of smaller ones. "It's my judgment that Queen Bee died from progressive dementia as a result of these lesions."

"Do you have an opinion on how she contracted these lesions?" Batman asked tensely.

"Yes. In my opinion she was subjected to long sessions in the Machine. Her condition at death was a more advanced case of the brain damage shown by Nightwing which is, incidentally, the cause of his unprecedented mental powers," Mid-Nite cast a sympathetic glance at Nightwing, sitting frozen in his seat.

"Am I dying?" Nightwing's quiet voice sounded calm.

"Yes, and no," Mid-Nite replied. "I believe that Queen Bee developed the same enhancement of her natural psychic powers that you have, except that she overused them." Mid-Nite's face took on a look of disgust. "Or, she was forced to. I think that the so-called energy weapon that the T'Shal have been using against our forces was actually Queen Bee using bolts of mental energy."

"Like what you used to save Batman," Superman added. Nightwing nodded dumbly.

"You're condition has not progressed as far as Queen Bee's," Dr. Mid-Nite said, gesturing to the other screen. "Here is your MRI scan, taken yesterday, showing your current condition. The original lesions have grown larger and have spread, but they're smaller and not so comprehensive."

"What treatment can you offer?" Batman asked.

"There is a drug that seems to slow progression when infused into the brain, pentosan polysulphate , that has been used experimentally." Dr. Mid-Nite replied. "But, this is cutting edge medicine, Nightwing's condition is something so new we don't have a name for it. What it most resembles, prion diseases like Kuru, Mad Cow disease and Creutzfeldt–Jakob, have no cure. We can try the pentosan but the best suggestion that I can make is that under no circumstances should Nightwing use these powers. Each use will cause further degradation in his neurological condition until the degeneration causes death."

"If I don't use these powers, will the lesions heal by themselves?" Nightwing asked, eyes glued to the screens. "What kind of symptoms could I expect if I get worse?"

Mid-Nite's voice took on a note of compassion. "I hope that the lesions will heal naturally over time. If the condition progresses, you would suffer from memory loss, hallucinations and personality changes followed by changes in gait, trembling and seizures, then paralysis and eventually death."

"I see," Nightwing's face had gone white. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Dr. Mid-nite shook his head. "No, that covers it. We'll start treatments tomorrow."

Nightwing replied. "Understood." He stood up and nodded at Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. "I'll be going now. I have... a lot to think about." As he moved toward the doorway, Batman got up as if to follow him, then sat down again, his eyes following Nightwing out the door.

* * *

"There has to be something we can do for him," Batman said angrily. "We have the most advanced science at out command!" He turned to Superman. "And I don't understand why Nightwing had to learn about it this way! He should have been able to learn that he's dying in decent privacy!"

Superman laid a hand on Batman's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but you know that we have a war to fight and a planet to save. Nightwing isn't just your son, he's also the most powerful weapon we possess."

Batman looked into Superman's blue eyes. "No. No! You are not going to use him! We can fight the T'Shal conventionally the way we always have!" He glared at Wonder Woman and back at Superman. "You don't need him."

"At this point in time, we don't," Wonder Woman said gently. "But we needed to know the extent of Nightwing's condition as much as Nightwing himself did. Dr. Mid-Nite is over-extended as it is, this was the only time he could spare. I'm sorry."

Batman stood up, glaring even more fiercely at his friends. "I'll see you both later. Right now, I have a sick child to comfort." He strode out of the room, shoulders stiff.

* * *

Nightwing sat in his room staring into space, his mask discarded and his gloves pulled off. His life had always been lived on the edge; he cheated death regularly. As a child trapeze artist, he'd routinely swung fifty feet above the sawdust ring without a net. Later, he had laughed at risk as Robin, trusting Batman implicitly to rescue him from any danger. Even his leisure activities were inherently dangerous, rock climbing, sky diving, rappelling. He'd been asked before whether he feared death and his answer had always been that no, death came to everyone. Why should he be afraid? Now he realized the sheer stupidity of that response. The weight of the years he might lose already tugged at him. He'd never expected to live to an old age, but he'd barely started...His fist clenched. The Joker he could fight; Two-Face could be beaten in court. Even the T'Shal had their weaknesses. He bowed his head and ran a hand through his hair. What do I do now? he wondered. Bruce would undoubtedly drag him to all the world's foremost specialists, ignoring the opinion of the greatest doctor known to the League. He'd try to prod WayneTech to produce some miracle drug. That would only postpone the inevitable. If he couldn't live his life, he didn't want it extended. Better he go out now, doing some good in the process. He'd talk to Superman about it tomorrow.

Batman tapped on Nightwing's door and entered to find the room in semi-darkness. Dick sat on his bed, knees drawn up to his chin, looking much like the nine year old Bruce had taken in so many years ago. Batman pulled the desk chair over to face the bed and sat down, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. "Dick, talk to me."

Not looking up, Dick replied in a muffled voice, "Nothing to discuss, is there?"

"I think there is," Bruce said evenly. "This isn't any different from what we do, day to day. We face death regularly."

Dick looked up, blue eyes bloodshot and moist. "This is _nothing_ like our daily life, Bruce, and you know it!"

"We can treat it. It might go away by itself," Bruce rested both hands upright on his knees. "You can't lose hope."

"Find me a mission," Dick said fiercely. "Get me a mission and let me be useful before I become useless!"

Bruce's face went cold. "No. I won't help you kill yourself. There is a way out of this. You might heal spontaneously."

"Do you know the likelihood of my recovering spontaneously from brain lesions? I did some computer research and the answer is never! Get me a mission, Bruce," Nightwing looked up at his mentor. "If you care about me, let me go out with dignity."

Bruce said nothing and just stared at him, then got up to leave.

"And Bruce," Nightwing added. "Don't tell anyone. Especially, don't tell the team."

Bruce nodded silently, opened the door and left Nightwing alone in the semi-darkness.


	19. Expedience

CHAPTER 19

During the days that followed, Dick Grayson was quieter, but nobody noticed that except Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. He worked out with his team, shared jokes and took routine briefings with them. He and Batman never discussed Dick's diagnosis after the day they'd been given the news.

Dick showed up, as ordered, to the medbay and endured long infusions of a chemical he couldn't pronounce and didn't believe in. One day he lay on the bed when Wally wandered in complaining of a training injury.

"I swear, she did it deliberately," Wally said, holding his left hand. "Artemis is mad at me because I forgot her birthday. When we worked out today, she pulled back my finger and disarmed me. What a dirty trick!" He held out his pinky, which was red and swollen.

Dick smiled tiredly. "You should have expected that. It's a standard tactic. What is it, you slowing down in your old age?"

"Nah, I just...well, you know I always pull my punches with Artemis," Wally mumbled. "I can't think of her as an opponent and I don't want to hurt her..."

"Well, she clearly doesn't have that limitation," Dick replied. "You'd better get over it or you might find yourself unable to fight her duplicate or clone or even Artemis herself if she's controlled by someone else."

"Yeah," Wally sat down and gave the tubing that wrapped his friend a curious look. "You still playing guinea pig for Doc Mid-Nite? I mean, I know that Batman's done it before but I never thought you were that masochistic."

Dick closed his eyes. "Advancing medical science is a privilege," he intoned pompously. "But seriously, it doesn't hurt me to try out one of Dr. Mid-Nite's new treatments and it may help him develop a cure for some exotic disease. Batman used to play guinea pig, too. I remember he spent a week in an isolation chamber. Man...the hallucinations he had! He even thought I was..." Dick fell silent a moment, then turned a bright smile at Wally. "The nurse is in the back office. You should have her take a look at your finger."

"I guess I will," Wally said. "See you at training tomorrow!"

"Sure will," Dick replied and closed his eyes again. It had been a week since he'd started treatment. So far, the only effect he could be sure of was that his stomach was constantly upset. Still, could be worse. If it was cancer, he'd be losing his hair. This way at least he'd leave behind an attractive corpse. He shook himself mentally. This wasn't helping anything. The Bat hadn't hovered over him and for that he was grateful, but there had been no mission for him and he was convinced that Batman was the reason.

"Okay, all ready to go," Wally said. "So, you want to eat dinner together? M'gann is trying a new lasagna recipe tonight and Artemis and I are going to her room."

Terror flashed through Dick's mind. The last person he wanted to see was a telepath, especially one as powerful as M'gann. He'd been avoiding her all week, except when team duties required contact. "No, I think I'll go to bed early," he replied. "I'm kind of tired tonight. Might be the chemicals."

"Okay, your loss," Wally replied. "But you're missing some great food. She's gotten a new cookbook or something. I swear Connor has gained ten pounds." Wally waited for a snappy comeback and, getting none, shrugged and left the medbay.

Dick dozed for a while and hearing a soft movement nearby, said without opening his eyes, "Wally, I really don't want anything to eat right now. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"How are you doing?" a familiar voice growled.

Dick stiffened. "Fine," he said. "I'm doing the treatment and so far the only effect is on my stomach. I puke every night."

"That's not what I mean," Batman said. He hesitated. "This would be easier if there were a criminal I could beat up or a psycho I could track down. I feel...helpless."

"Welcome to the club," Dick replied. "Your criminal is sitting in the T'Shal base in Rhelasia, busy torturing a new crop of captives. I'd be tracking him right now if I hadn't been restricted to the Watchtower." He opened his eyes and sat halfway up on the bed. "Your orders, I assume."

"Mine," Batman admitted. "You'd do something stupid if I hadn't."

Dick lay back down. "Stupid is staying here and just letting it happen to me. We both know this drug is a longshot. I heard that you've sent my test results and tissue samples to WayneTech and they're working triple shifts. S.T.A.R. Labs has it, too."

"I'd think you'd be pleased," Batman said. "How did you find all this out?"

"Alfred was trying to make me feel better," Dick shifted position, his face suddenly greenish. "If they haven't cured these diseases in the past twenty years, I doubt the labs will make a difference in time for me. Oh, hello doctor," Dick held up his arm. "I think I'm about done. How about cutting me loose?"

"I think I can do that," Dr. Mid-Nite said with a smile, removing the IV equipment. "Batman, how good to see you. How is the knee?"

"Doing much better, thank you," Batman said genially. "How about Nightwing? Any progress?"

"Too soon to track," Mid-Nite replied. "We'll do another MRI in a week."

After Mid-Nite left, Dick struggled to sit upright and found a strong arm around his shoulders helping him up. He shrugged it off and hopped off the bed. "Where is my mission?"

"There won't be one, if I have anything to say about it," Batman growled.

Dick glared at him steadily, his blue eyes deeper than Batman had seen them. "We'll see about that." As he moved toward the door, Batman couldn't help noticing that , for the first time since Bruce had brought the boy home, Dick's movements didn't seem fluid or graceful.

* * *

JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA

It was a sunny day with a blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. The sun shone down with a golden light. The light became brighter and brighter, going from golden to white hot in a matter of seconds. Passersby looked into the sky to see a brilliant bolt of fire shoot into the center of the city, passing over the gawking citizens. When the light passed, there was nothing left but smoking char and the burned shadows of the victims on the adjacent walls. Seeing this, those in its path began to flee, screaming in terror. Buildings exploded, flame shooting up into the sky to destroy the buildings around them. The light ran through the city, obliterating as it traveled, leaving nothing but cinders behind.

* * *

WATCHTOWER

CONFERENCE ROOM B

"I have the right to be allowed to serve," Dick kept his voice steady with an effort. He was so frustrated that he was tempted to punch the man of steel in the middle of the man's square jaw.

"Batman led me to believe that you were on a medical leave for the time being," Clark's resonant voice held the comforting tones of a hundred television specials. He was used to persuading the public that the news wasn't really disastrous.

"He lied," Dick said coldly. "He's trying to wrap me in padding again. I'm an adult; I don't have to obey him anymore. And you know it."

A small buzzing sound interrupted what promised to be an unparalleled shouting match. Hawkman's face appeared on the wall-mounted video screen. "Superman, I'm sorry to bother you, but there's urgent news of a T'Shal attack on South Africa." The face went away and an unsteady video appeared showing a brilliant light destroying a city. "They say that there are at least half a million dead so far and those parts of the city not destroyed by the beam are on fire. They need help immediately. Shall we send a team?"

"Send them all," Superman said crisply. "And get as many volunteers as you can. Skeleton crew here to coordinate communications. Tell them, we're on our way." Ignoring Dick, Superman began to move briskly toward the door.

"My team," Dick interrupted. "You need my team. And they need their leader."

Superman glanced back at Dick. "You won't use any of your powers."

"No, I won't. I can still carry stretchers and move rubble without them," Dick replied.

"All right. Go," Superman said and ran out the door.

Dick called the team and they met at the bio-ship. The plan was simple. Hawkman told them what sector of the city to report to and they'd do whatever was needed. As they drew closer to the ruins of the city, M'gann's face grew tighter and more unhappy as the psychic backlash of the deaths seeped into her mind.

Nightwing tried to shield as much as possible, but inevitably, the horror of the dead crept into the corners of his mind. He couldn't control the force of the vision that struck him; that the last thing these people had seen was the same kind of power bolt that he himself had wielded. But how? Queen Bee was dead. Nightwing suspected he knew how the T'Shal had done it, but didn't want to believe it was true.

The bio-ship landed in sector 43-R. They weren't met by any officials; they had all died. Nightwing called his team together and deployed them. Superboy, Kid Flash and M'gann were to locate survivors under the rubble, then pull them out. Nightwing and Artemis were medical team and also worked with long poles, trying to find more buried survivors.

Nightwing soon realized that they stood in front of an elementary school filled with children. As the small bodies piled up in front of the bio-ship, his rage grew greater and hotter.

"Nightwing?" M'gann's soft voice rang inside his mind. "There aren't any more. No survivors. And you need to calm down."

Nightwing turned glowing eyes to meet M'gann's. "One hundred children, M'gann. They were just going to school; they never did anything to the T'Shal. They just existed."

"I know," M'gann replied, and he finally saw the tears running down her face. "We'll get them. But there's nothing you can do about it right now. There are others who need us."

Nightwing closed his eyes and consciously banked the fire inside. There would be time for vengeance later. "All right, team." he said, voice unsteady. "Artemis, call central for transport of the bodies to the morgue. We'll run a search pattern from here to look for survivors."

Artemis, hair sooty and disheveled with tears streaking her face, pulled out a radio and made the call. Wally sadly added one more small body to the pile, then patted her on the shoulder. She leaned into him and allowed herself to cry for a moment or two. Nightwing saw that Connor and M'gann were doing the same. He ran a hand over his eyes and tried to focus on the job at hand. What would Batman do? Work the pattern, push the emotions down and search..

* * *

EIGHTEEN HOURS LATER

The team rested in a temporary Red Cross shelter set up for the rescue workers. A few survivors had been found, but for the most part they had found bodies, crushed by falling buildings, burned or asphyxiated by smoke or simply vaporized by the beam. Nightwing was conscious of an intense rage building around him that wasn't coming from inside his own body. Rather, it was the built up emotion of the rescuers and the survivors. This atrocity could not be allowed to stand.

Nightwing felt vaguely like an overcharged battery, almost quivering with the force of the emotions surrounding him. M'gann caught sight of him and gave him a thoughtful look. "I think that we should return to the Watchtower and report. We've done all we can, here."

"We can look for more survivors," Connor insisted angrily.

Wally and Artemis, sitting exhausted on the hard benches, only gave him a look. "There aren't any survivors, Con," Wally said in a defeated voice. "We're done here. The Red Cross has arrived along with the professional teams. It's their job now."

Nightwing slumped on his bench. It hurt to give up. "All right, team. Back to the Watchtower. M'gann and Wally are right. We've done all we could." At least for now, Nightwing added silently.

* * *

WATCHTOWER

4:00 A.M. (LOCAL TIME)

Nightwing made sure that his team was showered, fed and in their quarters before he approached Superman. He found him huddled with Wonder Woman, going over the tapes of the attack. Superman looked over his shoulder to find Nightwing standing silently at his back.

"Nightwing, you're back I see," Superman said.

"You know how the T'Shal managed to murder a city," Nightwing began, his tense voice. "You must know."

"We suspected that this was possible, but didn't want to believe it," Wonder Woman said in a soft voice.

"They're taking people and feeding them to the Machine," Nightwing said, his voice hard. "They're making them into weapons, just like they did to...me."

"We think that they're somehow combining the abilities of more than two prisoners together for a stronger beam," Superman said without emotion.

"They'll die. They'll all die," Nightwing focused on each of his mentors. "This can't be allowed to go on..."

"You're right," Superman said. "We suspect that they're based in South Africa. The Machine must be destroyed and their program wiped out in such a way that they can never do this again."

Superman and Wonder Woman exchanged glances. "But we have only one weapon that compares to what the T'Shal can field," Wonder Woman continued.

Knowing where this was going, Nightwing asked, "Does Bruce know what you plan?"

Wonder Woman shook her head. "No. He's in the field and unreachable at the moment."

Nightwing bit back the fierce joy that shot through him. "Do you have coordinates for the base? I assume that my team goes with me?"

"What is your plan?" Wonder Woman kept her question broad, knowing what Batman feared.

Nightwing smiled savagely. "I plan to make the T'Shal pay for what happened to Johannesburg...and to me. When I'm done with them, they won't be able to light a match, much less burn a city."

Wonder Woman caught at his arm. "Dick, you know that we wouldn't ask this of you if there were another way."

"I know," he replied, smile dropping from his face. "Tell Bruce...just tell him it was great. I couldn't have asked for a better life, okay?"

"We'll tell him," Superman rumbled.


	20. Sacrifice for the Mission

CHAPTER 20

LOCATION UNKNOWN

MIDDLE EAST

A figure shrouded in black met another in a sandy wasteland. The second figure, holding a machine gun and wearing body armor, nodded and gestured to the first, leading him to a cave in the cliff face. Once inside, the first figure pulled back his hood and looked around, showing Batman in his accustomed dress.

Ra's al Ghul strode forward, a smile on his face. "Welcome, Detective. I am gratified that you would approach me for assistance. Usually we work at cross purposes. Come, have some tea. You must be tired from your long journey." Ra's led him to a carpeted area where a small round table held a steaming brass teapot and cups. At Ra's gesture, Batman sat down and accepted a cup of tea, although careful not to drink any. Ra's noticed and smiled knowingly. "Now. How can I help you? Something to do with the Young Detective's new abilities?"

Batman quirked an eyebrow. "You know about that, then?"

"I keep myself informed about you and your 'family'." Ra's eyes glittered and he put the cup down. "Time grows short?"

"He needs a treatment," Batman admitted, putting down his own cup. "Current science doesn't have much to offer him. It must be soon, he's already showing small signs of deterioration."

"I see," Ra's gave Batman a speculative look. "There will be a price."

"I require assurances that the cure will be effective," Batman countered. "And I won't kill for you."

Ra's nodded. "I am well aware of your ethical constraints. Very well, I believe that we can do business. My organization controls a system of Lazarus pits, as you know."

"Lazarus water kills the living," Batman replied.

"It kills when undiluted. Its effect can be...modified... by certain chemical and herbal additives. That will make it an effective cure for the Young Detective's malady. I can have a preparation ready for you within a few hours." Ra's watched Batman's expression closely, like a predatory animal sizing up its next meal.

"And the price?" Batman's eagerness to deal was restrained, but Al Ghul had known the man for years and he knew that he held his old nemesis in his hand.

"A favor. At some time in the future, your assistance on one of my projects at a place and time of my choice. I will not ask you to kill, but I will require your full attention to my interests." Ra's green eyes seemed to gleam with avarice.

"And if I renege on the deal?" Batman asked, almost casually.

"The Young Detective is dying at present. That condition can be restored to him and assuredly will be if you were so dishonorable as to break our agreement." Ra's met Batman's gaze. "But I know you for an honorable man and am confident that you will keep our bargain. Is it agreed?"

Batman nodded and held out his right hand and Ra's shook it. "Very well," Ra's said. "I will return with the preparation you need and instructions in its use," Ra's cocked his head and smiled again. "Our children are our legacy and must be protected." He got up and left the seating area.

When Ra's was out of sight, Batman's rigid posture slumped a little.

* * *

WATCHTOWER

OBSERVATION DECK

FIVE HOURS LATER

Superman and Wonder Woman stood watching the Bio-Ship launch. Wonder Woman stood, her hand on the railing and her face sad. "He is so young, Clark."

"They always are," Superman replied, face solemn. "I still remember meeting Dick when he had just become Robin. He impressed me with his maturity then...and still does. It's hard. You watch them grow up, progress, learn. You have such hopes for them and then, something like this happens."

"We had no choice," Wonder Woman said. "Dick knows that. He's the best...no, the only choice we have. He knows the T'Shal, he knows the Machine. "

"And he has the power to bring them down," Superman nodded. "Doesn't make it any easier sending the son of your best friend to his death."

"How will we tell Bruce?" Diana rubbed her arms, although the Watchtower was climate controlled.

"It won't be easy, but he'll understand eventually. Bruce, of all people, understands sacrifice for the mission," Superman rubbed his eyes. "It makes me feel old, Diana. Dick should have been the vanguard of the next generation of the League. It's what we always expected of him."

"He's acting in the best traditions of the League, Clark. We can't deny him that. And it was his choice." Wonder Woman turned to go in. "I'm cold, Clark. Let's go inside. There's still work to be done."

* * *

WATCHTOWER

FIFTEEN HOURS LATER

"Where is he? Where have you sent him?" Batman shouted, striding into a conference of the top level JLA members.

Green Arrow and Aquaman exchanged puzzled glances, while Superman and Wonder Woman stood up to greet the Bat. "He's on a mission," Superman said calmly.

"What mission?" Batman demanded. "How long ago?"

Wonder Woman put a soothing hand on Batman's arm. "He left about ten hours ago. While you were gone, the T'Shal attacked and destroyed Johannesburg with an energy beam; we're still tallying the losses but we estimate 1,000,000 dead at this point."

"We have reason to believe that the T'Shal energy weapon is actually human beings who have been processed by that demonic Machine of theirs," Superman added.

Batman shrugged off Wonder Woman's hand. "And you decided to use Nightwing to counter it! You know what's likely to happen if he uses his powers!"

"It was necessary, Bruce," Wonder Woman said softly. "He came to us himself and volunteered."

"And you couldn't turn him down," Batman spat bitterly. "The exigencies of war, is it Diana? Clark? You know that they'll be bringing him back on a stretcher."

"He's grown now, Bruce," Superman replied. "He has the right to choose a clean death if he wants one. And you're right, we couldn't turn him down. This is the Earth we're fighting for. It's bigger than our personal feelings." He turned a look of private anguish toward his friend. "This isn't easy for us either. We both watched Dick grow up, for God's sake!"

"I just sold my soul to Ra's al Ghul for Dick's cure," Batman reached into a belt pouch and removed a small packet and slapped it onto the table. "And now you tell me he's already gone."

* * *

T'SHAL BASE

PAN-AFRICA

"No movement," Nightwing lowered the binoculars and spoke telepathically to his team.

"None from this side," Wally's mental voice came through.

"None here, either,' Artemis added.

"Nothing in the west," Superboy said.

"I've found an entrance to the south," M'gann said. "It looks like the majority of the base is underground."

Nightwing closed his eyes and sought with his mind. "The prisoners are held in the northeast corner of the facility, about fifty feet below ground. They're close to the room that houses the Machine. I also sense some humans being held in the southern wing of the base. They haven't met the Machine yet." His scorn colored his mental 'voice'. "Here's the plan. We go in by the southern entrance. You four go to the coordinates I'll give you and get the humans out as fast as you can. I'll go to the northeast and free the treated humans and destroy the machine. When everybody's out, we blow the building."

"You can't go alone," Superboy protested. "You need somebody to guard your back, whether you have powers or not!"

"This one's too dangerous for more than a single person," Nightwing sent back.

"You're going all Bat on us, aren't you?" Wally asked. "This is a team, Nightwing. We support each other. What if you run into something you can't handle?"

Dick's mental chuckle rolled in their minds. "I'll be fine, Wally. With what I'm packing, they'll be so surprised they'll be surrendering in droves."

"Dick, can I have a private word with you?" M'gann's soft voice cut through the telepathic link.

"Sure, Megan, what's up?" Dick asked easily.

"To use a human equivalent, you're 'burning the candle at both ends'. You can't overuse your powers or you'll burn yourself out. I wish you'd let Uncle J'onn and I give you some more training."

Glad that she was a mile away, Dick smiled. "Don't worry, M'gann. This will be the last time I use the powers. I don't plan on a career as a meta. I'm too used to being an ordinary human."

"Well, at least take Wally with you. While you're focusing, he can watch your back. The rest of us can handle the southern wing together," M'gann's concern flowed through the link.

Dick sighed. "No. I think you'll be better off with more manpower. I count at least thirty life signs in the south wing and they'll be panicky. You'll need him."

"All right. I'll have the group form up near the entrance. We'll meet you there."

Dick was glad that M'gann hadn't pushed it. The last thing he wanted was Wally to watch him go down. He put the binoculars away and moved silently to the rendezvous point.

M'gann sent a private thought to Wally. "Wally, I want to talk to you," she sent. "Alone. Don't discuss this with Artemis."

Wally sent startlement back. "Okay. What's up, M'gann? Special orders from Nightwing?"

"Have you noticed anything unusual about Nightwing lately? Since we rescued him from the T'Shal?"

Wally thought for a moment. "He's a little quieter and he seems to have some beef with Batman, but nothing much. Oh, and he seems to be volunteering to try some new serum that Doc Mid-Nite just developed. Looks like the Bats do that periodically," he shuddered.

"I wondered about that. Wally, I want you to follow Nightwing. I don't know why, but I don't think his half of the mission will be as easy as he thinks. Don't let him see you until he needs you, okay?"

"Uh...okay, M'gann. Will do. He'll be really mad at us, you know." Wally gulped at the thought of Dick Grayson, normally mister easygoing, mad.

"Yes, but I think we need to do this anyway."

As planned, they found the south entrance. It was a hatch in the ground, round, like most T'Shal doors. Superboy opened it, still disliking the greasy/spongy feel of the T'Shal materials. Inside, there were two T'Shal guards. Nightwing frowned and the two fell over.

His team looked up at him in surprise. Nightwing shrugged and pointed them toward their goal. "Meet back here when you're done but don't stay more than an hour. If I'm not back by then, leave without me. And don't come after me, under any circumstances." For the second time, the team gave him startled looks, but Nightwing ignored them.

They split up at a t-intersection in the hallways, the team going left and Nightwing right. He didn't hear the soft footsteps of Wally West following at a distance.


	21. Retribution

CHAPTER 21

Nightwing ran into two more T'Shal patrols and each time he knocked them out with his mind. Like Batman, he didn't kill, even an alien race he detested for what they'd done to him and his planet. Finally he came to the room he was looking for. Surprisingly, it was unguarded, but he thought he knew why.

He opened the round door and found ten people imprisoned in ten Machines. Like he had been, they were all but devoured by the alien organic technology. In each Machine, he saw the T'Shal bred to live in symbiosis with the Machine, to devour the memories, the soul of its occupant. On the face of each human, he saw the rictus of their silent screams. He shivered a bit and gathered his power.

Controlling his own nausea, he sent his mind into the first Machine, learning it thoroughly. Touching the mind of the T'Shal who was the "soul of the machine", he took all the knowledge that the alien had ever absorbed from an unwilling victim. Unwittingly, he found its memory of himself buried inside. With a shudder, he removed that memory from the T'Shal too. He instructed the Machine to release its victim and to 'die'. As he stepped away, he watched the Machine pull away from its victim and change color, already beginning to crumble away into death and he was glad.

He went from one Machine to the next, 'killing' each, then tearing it apart to release each human trapped inside. The next held a young boy, not more than fourteen years old. Nightwing touched the child's mind as he helped him from the Machine, doing his best to repair the damage to his mind. He gave him silent instructions on where the exit lay and told him to run for it. The child nodded and ran. The team would find him and the others and take them to safety.

By the seventh Machine, Nightwing was beginning to tire. He reminded himself that Batman had taught him how to exceed his own physical limits. He just had to use the mental disciplines to work beyond them. He caught his breath and worked faster.

He found himself stumbling a bit at the tenth and final Machine. He sent its victim running for the door and leaned against the wall, feeling suddenly dizzy. He noticed that his hand was trembling; it was harder to move smoothly. He didn't think he had much time left. He searched the T'Shal memories he had absorbed suddenly knew that the "Honored Overlord"reigned over the entire invasion from here.

Controlling his breathing, Nightwing gathered up the strands of his power, building it into a solid mass again. When he began to feel energized again, he squared his shoulders and made his way deeper into the building.

* * *

::Honored (untranslatable title), I have detected an alien mind within the building/nest/place to be defended. I believe that this is the prisoner who defeated the Hunter. The soldiers I have sent to retrieve it have not returned. May I have your orders? .::

::And yourself, Honored Questioner. I am minded to take charge of this myself since this primitive has caused so much trouble among my subordinates.:: Body rising from its seat/chair/resting pad. ::Show me where this primitive is to be found. As you indicated before, Honored Questioner, dissecting its brain would be profitable. Those humans we have subdued with the Machine are powerful, but still not so powerful as the prisoner is.::

::We do have one human who has proven to be powerful. It was the driving force of the beam that destroyed the human city. It is kept caged separately; I will obtain it. Let us bring our weapon to bear on the primitive who had the audacity to escape us.::

::I perceive. Let us go and deal with this annoying human.::

* * *

Wally passed about a dozen humans who staggered down the hall in search of escape. He pointed them in the right direction and let the team know to expect them. By now the holding cell of unaltered humans had been cleared. The team had taken them in groups to a safe place miles away using the disguised bio-ship. "What about Nightwing?" M'gann asked.

"He's following procedure," Wally replied. "I've seen about ten humans taken from the Machine. They're in better shape than Nightwing was when we rescued him; I don't think they've been here long."

"All right. Keep watching Nightwing and let us know what happens," M'gann sent back.

"Will do," Wally answered and continued following Nightwing deeper into the building.

* * *

The hallway ended in a large room and, for the first time, Nightwing saw his true enemies gathered. The Chief Questioner stood next to a swaying human, a tall, brutal looking man with empty eyes. On the other side of the human stood a T'Shal that Nightwing didn't know, but who radiated a palpable menace.

The human struck first. A bolt of light shot out aimed for Nightwing's chest. He dodged it and threw his own energy bolt. The human put up a protective field surrounding himself and the two T'Shal. Somehow, Nightwing had a feeling that the human wasn't conscious, he was mindless. He saw the wicked eyes of the unnamed T'Shal and suspected that this was the mind truly wielding the human's powers.

"Did you destroy his mind and turn him into a machine?" Nightwing sent telepathically and dodged another bolt. "You think of us as primitives...farm animals to be exploited and destroyed. We aren't. We're as much people as you are!" He dodged again. "Maybe more!"

The wicked-eyed alien moved toward Nightwing and gestured toward the other T'Shal. "You claim to be sentient, primitive. You are as dust beneath our feet. You should have died in the Machine."

"I didn't," Nightwing panted and threw another bolt at the trio, which was countered. He had already used much of his power freeing the captives; he didn't know if he'd have enough for what he had to do. Didn't matter. He didn't have to worry about holding anything in reserve. "You are the ones who are turning humans into weapons, aren't you?"

"My Chief Questioner had the idea, based on your surprising transformation," the elder T'Shal said triumphantly. "I implemented it. Your planet is providing a large supply of riches, especially this new weapon your people's minds represent. We will utilize this resource for years to come."

"Those you torture will die slow, agonizing deaths," Nightwing shouted mentally. "We aren't cattle for your use!" He focused his mind on a fine, narrow beam aimed for the human, blanking all thought from his own mind that might give warning of what he was planning. He was glad to see the human's eyes glaze over and the man topple over in a heap.

Grinning dangerously, Nightwing walked closer to the undismayed T'Shal left standing. "Aren't you afraid of what I can do to you?"

"No," said the Chief Questioner. "You are a primitive after all." He gestured and twin paralyzer beams shot out from the walls, hitting Nightwing broadside. He felt his body give way and drop to the floor. The Chief Questioner came over and nudged his prisoner's body with a toe. "You will return to the scientists and we will discover why you are more powerful than the others. This knowledge will spread among our people and we will be able to take planets at will. I will enjoy observing when they take you apart, screaming."

The second T'Shal came to stand next to the Chief Questioner while a pair of T'Shal guards ran into the room and began to tie Nightwing's wrists and ankles. Now, Nightwing realized. The time was now. Everything he had, he poured into the power.

Nightwing's face moved into a long, slow smile and his eyes began to glow. Brighter and brighter, his blue eyes shifted to glowing red, to yellow then to a white so bright that the T'Shal had to look away. The guards began to back away when Nightwing's body started glowing. The ties at his wrists and ankles burned away. His uniform melted off and the floor scorched beneath his prone body, but still he smiled.

"You have been judged and found wanting, T'Shal," Nightwing said softly into the mind of every T'Shal on Earth. "You will leave this planet and never return or you will face this!" He released a brilliant ball of energy which overwhelmed the thousand minds he touched and made them cry out in fear and pain. "This is what your Machine does," Nightwing whispered into their minds. "This is what it's like. Experience it." After an eternity of helplessness and pain, the T'Shal begged him for mercy.

"Go from this planet and never return," Nightwing's voice rang through their minds. "I have set this into your minds. If you so much as think about this planet again, you will feel the Machine in your minds and this time it will not release you. Leave my planet NOW!" A final burst of agony swept through the T'Shal. The Chief Questioner and the Honored Overlord found themselves on the floor clutching their heads in agony. First the Chief Questioner, then the Honored Overlord scuttled away from the glowing figure on the floor.

The Honored Overlord gave the order. ::All bases, retreat! Evacuate this deathly place. Take NOTHING of this planet with you! Go NOW!::

* * *

In the hallway, Wally stood indecisively. He sensed that something was happening but couldn't put a finger on it. Suddenly, all the alarms and klaxons in the building started going off simultaneously. He ducked into a side room and watched through the crack as T'Shal began running down the halls. He heard the rumbling of powerful engines outside that signalled rockets taking off. He finally dared to send a message to the team.

"M'gann? What's going on? They're fleeing the building from this end!"

Artemis responded. "We've been holding position outside. The last of the humans left ten minutes ago. Five minutes ago, M'gann just clutched her head and passed out, then we saw the T'Shal running out of the building. They're loading themselves into their space craft and just taking off! They aren't even loading supplies, they're just going! What's Nightwing's status? We've been trying to call him."

"I don't know," Wally admitted. "When the T'Shal started running, I went for cover. I'll go see, now." He crept into the now echoing building and rounded the corner. There were no T'Shal left, just the crumpled figure of Nightwing on the floor. Nightwing's uniform had all but disintegrated and was still smoking gently. His body luminesced in the semi-darkness of the hallway. "Nightwing?" Wally called in a low voice as he scrambled over to kneel next to his friend. "Dick? Are you okay?" He leaned over and saw that Nightwing's eyes were open and his blue eyes were glowing a soft sapphire.

Nightwing made eye contact with Wally and smiled. "I did it," he rasped and visibly let go. His eyes rolled up into his head and his body started shaking with convulsions. When the convulsing didn't stop after a minute or two, Wally did the only thing he could think of and threw Dick over his shoulder and bolted for the door.

He ran the empty hallways at his top speed and skidded to a stop at the bio-ship. He pounded on the side until it opened. Artemis leaned out the door, "Wally! What the..."

"No time. Get us to the nearest zeta tube as fast as you can!" Wally rushed Nightwing over to the ship's tiny medbay. "Go!"


	22. An End

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, folks, this is the last chapter. If you liked the story, I strongly encourage you to post reviews! My thanks to those who have been reviewing all along, poking me to post new chapters. As I have said before, I write faster for reviews!

Let me ride on the wall of death one more time  
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time  
You can waste your time on the other rides  
But this is the nearest to being alive  
Oh let me take my chances on the wall of death  
Oh let me take my chances on the wall of death  
Oh let me take my chances on the wall of death

CHAPTER 22

Batman was waiting at the zeta tube when Superboy came through with Nightwing in his arms. Dr. Mid-Nite and his team quickly put Nightwing onto a gurney and rushed him to the med-center with Superboy and Batman running behind. The bio-ship soon arrived and the rest of the team joined them in the waiting room.

Batman was absolutely still, almost icy in his remoteness. M'gann came in, still looking off-color and sat next to him, putting a hand on his knee. "Batman, he... he forced them to leave Earth."

"I know," Batman said with a sigh. "J'onn told me that every telepath on the planet heard Nightwing's message."

M'gann nodded. "The sheer force of what he sent..." She laughed a little. "If the Machine was banned before, it's despised now. He made each of us feel what it is like to be tortured with one." She shivered. "I knew, but I never understood..."

"I found a treatment," Batman said. "I only hope I wasn't too late."

The door opened and Dr. Mid-Nite stepped out, looking grim. "Batman, can I speak with you?" He held open the door to the room. "You can see him now."

The hospital room was brightly lit, the overhead lights were reflected in the flat surface of Nightwing's open blue eyes. "He's awake?" Batman moved over to the side of the bed. "Dick?" He leaned over. The eyes didn't focus, nor did the blank expression change. "How is he?" Batman asked, not taking his eyes from his son.

"Not good," Mid-Nite replied. "The MRI shows that the lesions have progressed exponentially. His recent use of his powers has sped up the process. I'm sorry, Batman. I don't know how much longer Nightwing has, but you will want to look for some palliative care for him. He's currently in a persistent vegetative state. He appears awake, but is unaware of his surroundings and unable to communicate." Mid-Nite activated a side screen. "Here is a comparison of Nightwing's first MRI scan and the one we took today. See the devastating changes here...and here?"

Where there had been small holes before, the recent MRI showed huge gaps where tissue no longer existed. "The lesions have grown and the tissue has died, to be replaced with fluid. I'm sorry, Batman. I don't have a treatment for this."

Batman looked at the screens and swallowed hard. "Have you tried the treatment I brought?" Batman's low voice was desperate.

"We have, and followed the directions exactly. There is no result as yet. However, it may be that more infusions over time will make a difference. I can only give you his condition at this point in time." Mid-Nite's expression grew soft. "I understand what he did and why. You can be very proud of him."

Batman looked up briefly, then resumed his gaze at Nightwing. "I am."

Dr. Mid-Nite sighed. "I understand that you approached Ra's al Ghul for this. His Lazarus pits have been known to perform miracles. You may still get one, but I don't know how long it might take. Or if you ever will get one." Dr. Mid-Nite put a hand on Batman's shoulder. "Take him home and spend as much time with him as you can, while you can."

Batman drew in a long breath. "When can I take him home?"

"Whenever you wish. There isn't anything more we can do for him here. Familiar surroundings might help, but you should prepare for the inevitable. I am truly sorry," Mid-Nite added.

Batman nodded. Dr. Mid-Nite left him staring at the blank face of his son.

* * *

WAYNE MANSION

GOTHAM CITY

SIX WEEKS LATER

Bruce Wayne sat at the desk he'd had moved into Dick's sick room. He'd taken Dr. Mid-Nite's instructions to heart and spent much of his day in the room with his son. Batman had disappeared from the streets of Gotham as the entire household waited for the inevitable.

The entire JLA had come to visit and present their thanks, and their condolences. The T'Shal had left the planet, literally dropping whatever they had been doing in their rush for their space ships. Masses of incomprehensible T'Shal technology was left behind and S.T.A.R. Labs' scientists were having a field day studying it.

Life at Wayne Manor was much quieter. Wayne Enterprises had let it be known that Dick Grayson had suffered a head injury in a car accident and was not expected to recover. Consequently, Bruce Wayne's absence from his usual social commitments went unremarked. The Young Justice team had taken up residence in Gotham and were known to be taking Batman's place for unspecified reasons.

At noon, Alfred brought in a tray with Bruce's lunch and set it on a side table. "Your luncheon, sir," the old butler said, then moved over to the bed. "It's time for the young master's infusion."

Bruce put down the document he had been studying. He had lost a considerable amount of weight over the intervening weeks; his eyes were quiet but shadowed with grief. "Is there any point, old friend? This...shell..isn't Dick. He wanted to die cleanly, not like this."

"Where there is life, there is hope," Alfred said as he adjusted the picc line that had been installed to facilitate infusion of the various drugs that maintained Dick's life. He added a drip bag with a solution of Ra's al Ghul's chemical and stood back to make sure that it was working. "Besides, we do not know that Ra's al Ghul truly cheated you, sir. He has always wanted your cooperation. Surely he knows that if Master Dick does not fully recover that you will never fulfill your end of the bargain."

Bruce got up and took up his position at the foot of Dick's bed. As usual, his son's bright blue eyes were open and staring unfocused at the ceiling. "I think that I was cheated, Alfred. Why? I don't know. When Dick is...gone...I'll be taking that up directly with Ra's al Ghul." His eyes took on a deep icy cast. Having his hopes killed so thoroughly hadn't left him in a forgiving mood.

"I am sorry to hear that, Detective," Ra's al Ghul's voice rang through the room. "I am equally dismayed to hear that the treatment has not had the success which we both hoped for. Since I am an honorable man, I have taken the liberty of preparing a stronger version. I ask only that the original bargain be sustained." In his long-fingered hand, al Ghul held a clear glass phial containing a greenish liquid.

Bruce assessed al Ghul for a long minute before scooping up the phial and handing it to Alfred. "How is it administered?"

"All of it, in a single dose. It will either cure or kill." Ra's nodded to Batman and slipped away.

"Do you want to risk this, sir?" Alfred eyed the phial in his hand doubtfully.

"This is the life that Dick wanted to avoid, so much that he took on a suicide mission," Bruce said. "He, of all people, would want us to try this. Do it."

Bruce watched tensely as Alfred prepared a hypodermic with the undiluted chemical in it and injected it into Dick's line. Then they both sat down to watch and wait.

For sixteen hours, nothing happened. Bruce had sent a protesting Alfred off to bed when it was clear that nothing was happening, but remained behind himself. Seated in a wing chair next to the bed, Bruce spent the time remembering the years since he'd adopted an eight year old circus orphan. Dick had been outgoing, chatty, friendly to everyone. He was the exact opposite of the cautious, quiet Bruce Wayne. The light that the boy had brought to the gloomy mansion had been incredible. Bruce himself hadn't realized just what a difference Dick made until the boy had left to make his own way in the world. He was still sorry that he'd fired Dick as Robin but had to admit that the boy had outgrown the role. He'd needed to be pushed out of the nest, although if he had to do it over, Bruce would have eased him out more gently.

Ra's had said that the chemical would kill or cure. Either outcome was acceptable, Bruce realized. He couldn't condemn someone he loved so much to a living hell. He reached out and took the boy's hand, realizing that Dick had grown much quieter in the past hour. It was ending, then.

Bruce brushed at his eyes, although there was no one there to care if he cried. "Dick, I'm sorry that I wasn't the father you needed. I did my best," he said softly, hoping that his son would hear him somehow.

He heard Dick's breathing slow and soften. The rigidity in his son's body began to relax. The boy's eyes had closed long since and he looked like he was sleeping peacefully at last.

"Good bye, Dick," Bruce bent over and gently kissed his son's forehead. He sat back and realized that, rather than cooling, his son's body seemed warmer than it had earlier. He put a hand on the boy's forehead, then on his cheek. "Dick?"

Dick's eyes began moving under the closed lids, then slowly his eyes opened. They looked up at the ceiling, then around the room, finally focusing on Bruce's face.

"Bruce...?" Dick asked in a hoarse voice. "Why are you crying?"

Bruce ran an arm over his eyes, not letting go of Dick's hand. "Me? I never cry," he said with an enormous grin. "Welcome back."

"What..?" Dick looked around the room and noticed the medical equipment. "What happened? Was it the Joker?"

"Don't you remember? The T'Shal?" Bruce asked.

"The who?" Dick frowned, clearly racking his brains. "I don't know who you're talking about."

Bruce's eyes widened. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh...I was programming computers at the Watchtower...I don't remember much after..." Dick's face creased with worry. "What did I miss? Why don't I remember?"

Bruce grinned and moved over to the phone. "It's a very long story. I'll tell you sometime. But I think Alfred will want to see you right now."

"Uh...okay," Dick answered. "When can I get out of bed?" He moved his legs and arms. "How long have I been here?"

Bruce said a quick word to Alfred, then pushed Dick back into the bed. "You've been here for quite a while. Give it time, okay? You've only just woken up." Bruce laughed, then his face grew serious. "Damn."

"What's wrong, Bruce?" Dick asked.

"I'm going to have to pay back my debt to Ra's al Ghul now.'


	23. Chapter 23

This story is continued in my sequel story: The Debt, found on ffnet.


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